


Tincture

by Xazz



Series: Flocking Movement [7]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Anthology, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-13 14:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 67,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2153727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xazz/pseuds/Xazz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right doesn’t always mean correct. What happens when you go left, instead of right? Take the other path and change what is to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tincture

**Author's Note:**

> Tincture is an anthology story much like Legacy. Only unlike Legacy which seeks to tell the in between scenes we don’t get to see in FM for one reason or another Tincture is a distillation of ‘what if’.
> 
> Nothing in Tincture is considered ‘canon’ by the FMverse, though there is truth in it. Time is not static and extremely small differences in the series of events can lead to an entirely different result. Like Legacy there will be various povs. And none of the vignettes are connected. Each one is a separate time stream you are allowed to glimpse into but they do not touch and are completely self contained.
> 
> All chapters of Tincture will also have musical accompaniment if you wish to listen to it.

 

tinc·ture

ˈtiNG(k)(t)SHər/

  _noun_

1. a medicine made by dissolving a drug in alcohol.

2. a slight trace of something.

 verb

1. be tinged, flavored, or imbued with a slight amount of.


	2. For You

At some point he knew he’d find him. For a man who claimed to never stay stagnant Cain had the same habits he’d had four centuries ago. Liked apartments above bakeries and florists, but not restaurants and the place had to have as many windows as the walls were capable of holding. Altair had scouted four such apartments so far. In a bobby’s uniform all sorts of doors opened and he knew how to look sympathetic. The first four had been a family of six crammed into two rooms who ran the bakery; a young composer who lived in a cupboard of an apartment; a young couple, the man who worked in the florist shop downstairs; and the last had been an old woman with six cats who’s children ran the bakery and lived several blocks down and insisted Altair come in for tea. He was on apartment five now and didn’t know what to expect.

The owners of the bakery had let Altair right in through the back, saying their tenant was nice, quiet, and enjoyed toast and jam for breakfast in the morning. That could have been anyone though. Altair climbed the stairs to the apartment and went into Eagle Vision, but his surroundings were nothing but washed out and grey. No lightness, no hint of color. He held his left arm back a bit, flicking the hidden blade out silently in case it _was_ Cain, and knocked, calling, “Scotland Yard, open up under the order of her majesty Queen Victoria.”

He waited, then he heard the locks coming undone. Three locks. Cain used three locks. He prepared himself. The door opened widely. The man standing in the doorway was a find Englishman with a waistcoat, finely manicured mustache, and ice blue eyes. Altair would recognize him anywhere. He didn’t think and just flew at him, hidden blade ready.

Cain caught him in a great bear hug, “Hello brother,” he said with all the mad joy he’d expected. “Knew you’d get my message.”

Altair stabbed his flank, Cain released him and though blood flowed Cain didn’t seem to notice. “I knew this day would come,” Altair growled.

“Yeah, fancy that. So did I,” Cain stepped deeper into his apartment, Altair followed, kicking the door closed behind him. “I mean, you told me,” and he grinned.

“I should have killed you then,” Altair said and lunged at him. Cain pushed him past him, smacking his back on the way into the wall.

“Trouble with that kid; we don’t die, or you forget that bit?” Cain asked, his side was red with blood. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you did, was always so troublesome getting any information into that thick skull of yours. Its like you _like_ being wrong all the time—!” Cain had to jump out of the way when Altair nearly managed to get another hit on him.

“Why Cain?” Altair growled, “Why do this?”

“Bored?” Cain asked glibly. “And had to get you to pay attention to me somehow kid,” and Altair missed the longing in his voice. “This proved to be one of my fruitful attempts to get you to come find me at least.”

“… One of?” Altair asked.

“Oh yes. Been waiting for this year. The year I’d kill all those _whores_ you pretended were good enough for you-

“Shut up!” Altair yelled and attacked again. Cain fended him off with his bare hands and that just infuriated him all the more.

“Been waiting so long for this year,” Cain said even as he deflected each of Altair’s attacks. “And I know you have been too-

“No!” Altair cried.

“Oh yes,” Cain was suddenly in his face, grabbing his wrists, looming above him because despite being centuries older was over a head taller than Altair. “You’ve been waiting for this,” he basically whispered, “because that means you were right. For once you were right.” Altair tried to wrestle away from Cain’s grip but his hands were like manacles. “And I’ve been thinking about what I was going to do today for a very long time,” Cain said softly. Altair looked up at Cain with wide eyes and faster than Altair thought a human could move Cain had his hands around his neck. It was quick and Altair heard the crack of his own spine and could see the floor boards before it just all went black as he went Under the surface of death.

—

When Altair Woke the first thing he noticed was that he’d been stripped of his constable uniform, and weapons, and left in his small clothes and had been laid out on a pallet on the floor. His wrists were shackled above his head neatly to a metal beam, and his hands had been wrapped in some sort of cloth so he didn’t have use of his fingers. The next thing that came to him was the smell. His mouth watered instantly at the smell of baking bread and roasted chicken with lemon and onions and garlic.

He looked around, trying to get his bearings. He was in Cain’s apartment above the bakery still, and it was starting to get light out. But he couldn’t see Cain, or a kitchen where the smell of chicken was coming from. His stomach rumbled, he was hungry. Which he expected.

Altair shoved himself against his shackles when Cain came into the room. He was wearing a new set of clothes and had a plate in his hand. Altair just wanted to get as far from him as possible. “Oh don’t be like that Abel,” Cain said, walking over to him calmly.

“Fuck you,” he hissed.

“No, I don’t think so,” he sat in front of Altair’s pallet. “Now stop that you’ll hurt yourself if you keep up that position.”

“What do you care?” Altair spat, but his arms did sort of hurt, all twisted up behind him.

Cain frowned a little, “I care a lot about you,” he said. “Though I know I’m the last person you give a shit about. I’m still here, and I know you’re hungry,” he looked down at the plate and Altair’s eyes darted to it. It was the lemon and onion chicken with potatoes. His stomach growled again.

“I don’t want it,” Altair said stubbornly.

Cain gave a little huff of a sigh, “Always so stubborn. Either you can let me feed you or you leave me with two options. I force feed you, or I put you Under again and hope you’re in a more agreeing mood later.”

Altair eyed him suspiciously, “What is it?” he asked.

“Chicken,” Cain said, “The way you like it,” and Altair glared at him. “Glare at me all you want boy, I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. Not this time.”

“I’m not a boy,” Altair hissed.

Cain sighed and sat back a bit, putting the plate down and Altair’s eyes went to it immediatly. “And yet you act so _childish_. You know Micheal could have been spared if I’d been there,” Altair stiffened. “He’d have been able to grow old with his wife and son, maybe have more children.”

“I did everything I could for him,” Altair said. Because he had. He’d tried to save Hawk. But there was nothing he could have done. The damage had been too great.

“And you didn’t have to hide from Ezio all those years,” Cain said, “you could have saved his family.”

“If I did the future would fall apart.”

“The _future_ you chose,” Cain said, “the day you left me.”

“I didn’t come here to talk Cain. I came to stop you.”

“Stop me? What makes you think you can do _anything_ to me? You are a bug. Maybe if it didn’t take till stepping on you to do something we wouldn’t be here,” and Altair hated how rational Cain sounded. “You divined me into a monster. So a monster I became,” Cain said angrily, “but whatever you have going on in that pea brained head of yours. I still care about you. Now are you going to eat or will you be stubborn with me and make me feed you?”

Altair hesitated. He wanted to tell Cain to shove it and bite his own tongue, drown in his own blood. He’d done it before, once when Templars had captured him, had tried to torture him. They’d thrown him into a gutter and the next morning he’d gotten up and walked off. But he didn’t. Instead he scooted forward a bit and opened his mouth. 

Cain picked up the plate and fed Altair the potatoes first. “I hate you,” he told Cain.

“You want to,” Cain said, cutting pieces of chicken. “But you don’t.”

“Yes I do. You did exactly what I feared you would-

Cain slapped him so hard he tumbled over, giving more of a startled cry than anything when his arms jerked back uncomfortably. “You fucking _idiot!_ ” he cried, “Did it never cross your fool head that I did this because of what you did? You leave me after all I do for you. After I remade you into a better person and not some sad old man living in the past, who can’t move on or get over his first life. You told me I would do this, and then you waited to see, to _make sure_ I did. Well I did. I did exactly what you wanted, just like every other time. And you think you can hate me? I _made you_.”

Altair had never been spoken to like that. “It didn’t matter what I did. We’d always end up here,” he said, pushing himself up awkwardly.

“Well we would be together here at least,” Cain said.

Altair looked away from him, “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

“So you learn an important lesson,” Cain said.

“And what’s that?” he nearly whispered.

“That I will love you like those mortals can’t. They die, Altair,” he looked up at Cain, Cain never called him Altair except when it was important. “Your wives will die. Your children will die. Your friends will die. Everyone you think you love will die except for us. Our kind are forever. Those whores I killed? They’re nothing. They’re _nothing_ ,” he said more firmly, “You know I don’t like to kill if I don’t have to. But I am very good at it,” Altair nodded meekly. It was like being talked to by a titan.

“They’re dust, the only reason people will give a _shit_ about them is because I killed them. Because Jack the Ripper killed them. Not because they were good people, or because they loved their husbands or lovers or might have had fine singing voices or could fuck twenty men a night. They’re nothing until I took them away, and no one will care. No one.”

“I do,” Altair growled.

“No you don’t,” Cain said. “You want to care but I know you-

“No you don’t,” he growled, “Not anymore.”

“No, I do. And you don’t care about those women. You just care I played out your future. That’s all you care about, that the future comes to pass. Well it won’t. Do you know why?” Altair said nothing, “Because the future is not in stone. The future the Apple showed you? Lies. All of it, lies.”

“No,” he said weakly.

“Yes. The Apple lies. Do you know why?” Altair said nothing. “I know you can hear it sometimes. The screaming, can’t you?” and Altair’s silence was enough. “It lies because it hates, because its angry, because it wants to ruin everything in this world. That is what Apples are _for_ Altair. They are _for_ destroying our kind. Just like you let it destroy you, and your ambition, your confidence. Now you’re so worried about the future playing out the way the Apple said that you’ve just fucked it all up and played right into their hands. Ezio should be dead. _Micheal_ should be dead. You destroyed them instead.”

“I gave Ezio a choice. He chose this,” he growled, but it was without the heat he wanted.

“You went to him when he was dying and said you could help him kill the man he’d been hunting his entire life.”

“How do you know that,” Altair asked, bewildered.

“I know many things. Just because I don’t use the Apple doesn’t mean there aren’t other vessels which can be used to scry. I’ve watched you fuck up across centuries to reach your prophosized future and now that you’re here I’m here to tell you that won’t be happening anymore. Even if I have to keep you on a leash. Your future is bullshit.” Altair hunched. Cain kept beating him down and beating him down and everything he said Cain had a counter. A smart one too. “Eat,” and Cain fed him the chicken. It was delicious and reminded him he was hungry.

He tried not to look upset when it was gone. It tasted like a long time ago, not Cairo, but India where they’d stayed in a little town along the coast. Everyone in the town knew Cain’s name there, they’d smiled and waved and greeted him wherever he’d gone. He was an important man in that little town, though Altair hadn’t known the language at the time. He hadn’t needed to either, the only person he cared to talk to was Cain and Cain spoke Syrian Arabic. Cain had always cooked back then, because Altair was awful at it (he still kinda was). His favorite had been chicken with onions, garlic, and herbs, roasted over several hours till the skin was crispy and flaky and crunched between his teeth and the meat inside moist and savory. That was what Cain fed him now; his favorite.

Cain got up once the plate was empty and left him there on the pallet. Altair tried to get comfortable, but with his hands behind his back it was difficult. He hissed as he rolled his shoulders forward, popping both out of their sockets and snapped them back into place by pressing against the wall so his hands were now in his lap. 

Cain didn’t seem surprised by this, nor did he comment about it. He was back with more food, this time some sort of dark leafy vegetable with a thick sauce. Altair recognized this too but couldn’t place the names. He could place the time though; Scandenavia, during the end of the age of vikings. Altair had stood out there for his dark and exotic looks, he’d bedded _so_ many women and probably sired a dozen children he didn’t know about because their stay had been short. Cain had been more common there, though his eyes were too narrow and slanted to be one of them, his skin just a shade or two too dark, though he knew all the songs and dances and rituels and could drink anyone under the table. Altair wasn’t allowed to drink though. He hadn’t wanted too either.

Once that was gone Cain got up and left again. He came back with a big bowl of soup that must have cost a fortune. It was filled with rice noodles from Southeast Asia and thin slices of pork on top along with all sorts of green: sprouts, cilantro, onions, scallions, peppers both sweet and spicy, with an aftertaste he couldn’t place but tasted like lemongrass. He could remember visiting villages along the river in a country that now no longer existed and eating food that tasted like this. Cain knew the names of all of the towns along the river and insisted on stopping at every water market they could. They’d fished off the end of a peer that had been old even then and caught fish as big as their arms, yelling with their new friends about the size of them while their wives rolled their eyes at them from the shore.

The next meal was beef ribs, slow cooked in the way he’d only ever had once but recognized as soon as he ate them. He couldn’t remember the name of the tribe now, but they’d live along the horn of Africa and they’d shown up just in time for a wedding. Somehow Cain got them invited and they’d watched a hole dug in the ground and lined with coals. A whole cow had been slaughtered for the wedding. Neither of them knew the songs here, but it hadn’t mattered. It had been fun. They’d danced and sung till they’d collapsed onto the dirt, sleeping well into the morning to celebrate again after learning the wedding night had been successful.

The last one Cain had was dessert. Steamed egg custard which he hadn’t had like this since they’d been invited to a Chinese woman’s home after they’d stopped to help her patch her roof since her husband was dead and her sons lived away from her. It was rich and creamy and so smooth. She’d fed them as payment for their help and they’d slept out in her garden under the stars and Cain had told him the name of every single one of them until he’d fallen asleep. He’d been so much younger than, happier, kinder, and so full of wonder.

That was when he broke. 

Unbidden he just started crying, tears rolling down his face and he leaned over his lap so Cain wouldn’t see, like he thought Cain didn’t know. Cain just sat there as he did, trying not to shake and trying not to sob. He’d missed Cain so much and just tried to forget the time they’d spent together, where every day had been a wonder and Cain had found something interesting in everything. Even on days where they did nothing and there was nothing around. On those nights before they slept they’d get out their swords and train while their dinner cooked. They always fought hard before eating and passing out nearly on top of one another. He’d become such a bitter, angry, violent and jaded man since he’d left Cain, trying to find that happiness he’d given away. For what? For someone who wouldn’t be born yet still for another hundred years at least. He’d just thrown it away because he’d been _so sure_ he’d been right. But he was the architect of his own misery, of this entire enterprise. Cain had missed him, and if Altair hadn’t been so worried about being right, afraid of being right or wrong, he would have just let him back in and this never would have happened. And now the crying was the release of all those centuries of tension and lonliness he’d felt because of Cain and Altair couldn’t stop.

At some point Cain came and sat next to him. He said nothing, he just sat there and then started to rub his back soothingly like a parent comforting their child. “I won’t tell you its okay,” Cain said after several minutes, Altair had nearly run out of tears but he was still holding back the sobbing. “But we can fix it, if you want,” and after a second Altair nodded.

Cain left him there for a moment, taking the half eaten egg custard with him but came back shortly after. He took Altair’s hands and unlocked the shackles, taking them out of the bags he’d tied them in but Altair snatched his hands away, keeping them against his stomach. Cain didn’t seem to care if he was being antitouch right now, like he had become, and grabbed his face in one hand and tipped his head up. He used a soft, damp, rag to wipe his face, clean him up, just like he had when he’d quite literally pulled Altair out of a gutter that first time and taken him home to bathe and sober up. 

“There we go,” Cain said with a warm smile. “C’mon,” and he pulled Altair to his feet and then embraced him tightly. Altair grabbed onto him, pressing his face into the tall man’s shoulder and the tears came again, quickly soaking his nice waist coat and shirt. Cain didn’t seem to mind. “Feeling better?” he asked after they stood there for several minutes and once again Altair’s tears ebbed. Altair nodded. “Fantastic, now,” and he pushed Altair into his bedroom, “Find something to wear we’ll be off as soon as you’re ready.”

“Off?” Altair asked, “Where are we going?” and it was like no time had passed. One day Cain just woke up and ‘get dressed we’re leaving’ and they went to find some new adventure, some new wonder. Though half the time it was somewhere Altair had made a mention of wanting to visit in passing weeks or months ago.

“It matter?” Cain asked.

“Sort of,” Altair said and he felt exhausted from the emotional rush he’d just had. “I’m not a kid anymore-

Cain laughed, “Oh Abel, that is where you’d be _so_ wrong. You’ll always be a kid to me. Now hurry up, places to go.”

“Where though?”

“France,” he said, “I figured Ezio would stay away after the whole gillotine thing,” he grimaced, “but we both know he never learns.” Altair didn’t ask how Cain knew that, of course he did.

“So we’re going to see Ezio?”

“Of course we are. You didn’t think I don’t get a proper introduction to the only other immortals did you?” and Altair hadn’t even thought of that. “Now go on, the first ferry is in less than an hour,” and he shooed Altair inside.

Altair stood there a moment after Cain had closed the door between him and the bedroom. He needed to get his bearings. He closed his eyes and just breathed a bit. Once he felt calm he opened his eyes and went to find some clothes. For some reason he wasn’t surprised Cain had clothes for him, in his exact size, in the colors he liked. He dressed and selected one of the hats Cain had in his size before going back out. Cain was waiting for him with his coat on now.

“Ready?” Cain asked.

Altair felt like he was dreaming. It was like nothing had changed. But everything had changed. But nothing had. He blinked at Cain dumbly before he abruptly pulled himself together, his eyes sharpening. “Yes,” he said.

“Good, lets go,” and he followed Cain out of the apartment and down the stairs to the bakery and then out into the London streets.


	3. The Harold Song

As soon as Desmond touched the Apple he felt a force on his body. A hand on his soul that froze him in place. He moved his eyes, trying to force his body to move. Images flashed through his mind, ancient things and old prophecies. A lot of it didn’t make sense. Why? Why?

 

The force turned him. He could hear Juno talking to him, some more things about prophecy and destiny, but Desmond could barely hear her. It was like he was swimming through mud, his movements slow and forced. He started walking slowly back towards the others. He didn’t really call them his friends. He didn’t really  _have_  friends though. They weren’t moving, but rather seemed to be locked in space. Desmond could see their eyes moving.

He was forced forward, and would have fallen and stumbled if the firm hand didn’t seem to be around his neck keeping him upright. He shambled on stiff legs closer to them, the guide pushing him towards Lucy first. His hand flexed against his will, his hidden blade came out and images and understanding washed over him.

He saw what would be. He knew that there were Assassins heading towards the temple now, but there were Templars too. Lucy had called them. She’d called them both. They’d come for the Apple, and for Desmond but the faces who shoved him into a van were equally unknown to Desmond. He didn’t know if they were friend or foe and he realized: it didn’t matter. The future was the same. One way or another he’d be a captive of one of the organizations. Flavor didn’t matter, he’d be a prisoner. He saw the Abstergo Eye, what the Templars would do with it, why it’d be bad, and ultimately that it’d fail if Lucy didn’t die.

She’d ruin everything. He could feel that in the back of his mind. She will  _ruin_ everything. But there was something under that he couldn’t pick apart. What would she ruin? A plan. What plan?

He was getting closer now. “No,” he said softly, looking into Lucy’s eyes. She was aware, staring at him, her eyes the only thing that could move, and she was afraid.

What was the point? What was the POINT!? It wasn’t going to work! The Eye was a failure. The future painted to Desmond was the same if Lucy lived or died. He’d be strapped in an Animus ‘for the good of the cause’ by either side. He could feel a low current in his mind and he felt more than saw flashes of Rebecca and Shaun. He knew they were next.

His hand was drawn back and he stared in horror at Lucy. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t need or want a pointless deaths on his hands! “No,” he said again, amazed he could move his mouth. Tears collected at the edge’s of Lucy’s eyes, she knew he was about to hurt her. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this! HE DIDN’T WANT THIS!

“No!” he yelled as his hand was moved forward to deliver what would be a killing blow and under force of will changed the direction of the strike. He ended up sinking the blade deep into his own abdomen. His body was suddenly under his control again, his body going limp. The Apple fell from his weak fingers and rolled away. He stared at Lucy, breathing hard and she could move now.

“Desmond?” she asked, her eyes wide with shock and face white as milk.

Desmond tried to say something, but all that came up was blood. He knew the feeling of dying. He’d done it a thousand times already in the Animus. He wasn’t afraid of death. Blood bubbled from his mouth and dribbled down his chin. “I told you I’d keep you safe,” he managed to say and pulled the knife from his stomach. The strike had meant to kill Lucy, so it hadn’t just been a stab in the chest, which he could have handle, but also a yank up on his arm, digging the blade through flesh. He’d given himself the wound instead and he could feel his lungs filling with blood.

He managed to stay standing a few seconds more before he collapsed.

“Desmond!” he heard them yell but Lucy was the one who was at his side in an instant.

“What happened?” Shaun yelled.

“Go get the others,” Lucy ordered zipping up her jacket.

“But Lucy-

“Go get the others  _now_!” she yelled, looking at the two of them, “They should be at the temple entrance. Run.” Shaun and Rebecca looked overwhelmed even as Lucy was wriggling out of her shirt under her jacket. Of them only Lucy seemed to have her head together. The techs hesitated a moment before taking off, Rebecca sprinting, Shaun as fast as he could go.

Lucy leaned over him and pressed her shift, now balled up, to his abdomen. “Desmond, Desmond,” she said and touched his face.

“I’m alive still,” he said, staring up at her.

“What happened?” she asked in a whisper.

“Someone wanted me to hurt you,” he said. “I couldn’t. I wouldn’t,” he reached up and brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. 

She held them there. “Stay with me,” she said, “don’t sleep no matter what.”

Desmond smiled tiredly, “I won’t,” he promised. “So long as you stay with me too.” Lucy put more pressure on the wound. When Desmond glanced down he saw that her shirt was already deep red from his blood. “Its pretty bad isn’t it?”

“You’ll be okay,” she promised, still holding his hand to her face. 

“Promise?”

“I promise. Who’ll keep me safe if you’re gone?” she asked.

“Fuck, you’re right,” Desmond said, licking his lips, he tasted a lot of blood. At least being horizontal seemed to be keeping the blood out of his mouth.

They stayed like that for several minutes, Desmond just breathing, looking up at her, Lucy keeping pressure on the wound. Desmond felt himself weakening though. He knew what it felt like to bleed out. To have your life force slowly leave your body. He was feeling that now. Only it was worse because of the Bleeding Effect. He could see Ezio and Altair, like they were crows who’d come to fetch him to the afterlife. “Hey Lucy,” he said, looking over her shoulder when they appeared.

“Yeah?” she asked.

“I think I’m hallucinating again,” he said.

“No you aren’t, kid,” Altair said, in English, and he didn’t have the same accent he’d had when Desmond had lived as him. He was wearing modern clothes too. He remembered that night where he thought he’d seen Ezio on the rooftops of Monteriggioni.

Lucy turned to see who had spoken. She didn’t recognize the two of them like Desmond did. “Where’s the Mentor?” she asked.

“Shaun and Rebecca are getting him,” Altair said. He knelt next to Lucy and lifted her blood stained shirt from Desmond’s chest. “We need to get him out of here. Where’s Hawk?”

“Guarding the front,” Ezio said. Who was Hawk?

“Who are you?” Lucy asked, “You aren’t Assassins.”

“Well we aren’t Templars either,” Altair said, “and that’s the only reason you’re even alive right now,” and Lucy swallowed. Altair removed his sweat shirt and looped it around Desmond and tied it to keep the shirt in place and pressure on the wound. “Lets go, kid,” Altair said and picked Desmond up. He groaned in pain. “I know it hurts, you’ll be okay. Lets go,” he told Ezio.

“Can I come?” Lucy asked. Altair and Ezio exchanged looks. “They’ll kill me,” she said.

Desmond reached out to her and grabbed her hand. He didn’t want anything to happen to her. “You can come,” Altair said, “keep up, and don’t get in the way. Both sides are probably there by now,” and Desmond let go of Lucy’s hand as Altair carried him down the dais and through the temple. He did everything in his power to keep his eyes open as Altair jogged carrying him. Wasn’t that hard since every step sent a lacing pain through Desmond’s chest like he was on fire. But pain was good, it meant he wasn’t dead.

They reached a stopping point but Desmond was so out of it by this point he barely knew what was going on. He just knew he hurt. He heard someone else talking but didn’t know who and he couldn’t hear them very well. Then he was aware them moving through the temple again, but not  _out_  of it. At least not out the way he and the others had come.

At some point he was laid down. “He needs a hospital,” Ezio said, out of Desmond’s vision. He tried to look around but the world was warped and blurry and spinning.

“Then  _drive_ ,” Altair said, leaning over him. He realized he was in the back of a van. He felt the van start up and begin to drive away.

“Lucy?” Desmond asked weakly.

“I’m here,” Lucy pushed,  _pushed_ , Altair out of the way to get into his line of sight. She grabbed his hand, “I’m here.”

Desmond smiled a little, “Good. Good,” he closed his eyes a moment but opened them again so they wouldn’t worry. Open eyes meant he was awake, meant he was alive.

“Move girl,” Altair said and Lucy moved to the side, though held Desmond’s hand. “This’ll hurt a second,” and he removed the shoddy tourniquet around him and lifted his hoodie and shirt. Desmond gasped when he felt a needle piece his skin. He was breathing hard when Altair finished and knew he was in shock. Well he’d been in shock the entire time but finally he was like ‘shit I’m in shock’. “Drive faster,” Altair ordered to whoever was driving. 

He leaned over Desmond, “Deep breaths kid,” he said holding Desmond’s face in both hands. His hands were bloody and Desmond could smell his own blood on Altair’s hands. “You’re going to make it, its only been ten minutes since you were stabbed.”

“Hard to breathe,” Desmond said and more blood came up from his mouth when he tried to breathe deep like Altair said. He coughed and that hurt his entire body.

“We’re here,” Ezio announced from the front and someone was opening the back of the van. Altair picked him up and carried him into the the hospital. Ezio was calling in Italian for help and Desmond was placed on a stretcher.

Desmond looked to the side as they quickly wheeled him away. Lucy was standing next to Altair, Ezio, and another man he didn’t know. Then they were out of sight and he was being run down a hallway, people talking in loud Italian around him. He finally went unconscious in the ER where they knocked him out to operate.

—

When Desmond came to he was in a white room, by himself, in a hospital and it was dark out. He felt like shit, but he was alive. The man he didn’t recognize that had been with Altair and Ezio was sitting in a corner, typing at a laptop. Next to him, curled up in her chair, a hospital blanket draped over her, Lucy was sleeping. How long had he been out for?

He shifted around and took stock of himself. He had a catheter and a bed pan and was hooked up to a bunch of machines that were thankfully not beeping. He hurt like hell, but was breathing on his own.

His movement woke Lucy. She yawned and sketched, the blanket dropping away. Someone had gotten her a new shirt. She looked around blearily then realized Desmond was awake. “Desmond,” she said and moved over to his bed.

“Hey,” he said. “What happened?”

Lucy looked towards the man and the man was looking back, his face illuminate by the laptop. “They’ll explain,” she promised, looking back at him. “Its big,” she said.

“Where’s Shaun and Becca?”

“Not here. They’re okay though.”

“Who was that? I think I was having a Bleeding hallucination during that. It— it looked like Altair and Ezio.”

Lucy said nothing a moment, “It’ll all be explained okay?” she touched his head. “Its late now though, you should go back to sleep,” she said running her thumb across his forehead, cupping the side of his head.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Desmond asked.

She smiled faintly, “Yes,” she said.

“Good,” Desmond sighed, tired all the sudden. “I feel awful,” he said.

“It’ll pass, surgery usually is pretty rough,” Desmond nodded slowly. “Go back to sleep,” and she kissed his forehead.

“That made me feel better,” Desmond said sleepily. He saw her mouth curve into a smile and kiss his cheek. “Man at this rate I’ll be good as new in no time.”

“Don’t push it,” she said.

“Have you not met me?” Desmond asked with a tired, cheesy, grin. Lucy leaned over and kissed him on the mouth and while he was slow to reply it was the best thing that had happened to him in  _months_. “Good as new,” he said when she pulled away.

“Go to sleep,” she said gently. “You’ll get all the explanation when you wake up.”

“Okay,” he nodded and she sat with him, holding his hand, gently running her thumb across his knuckles, until he finally did sleep.


	4. Centuries

It was hot, the middle of summer, and the sun was unbearable. Just, completely unbearable. It was humid and the bugs were out in swarms. Apparently they were in the middle of a heat wave, and it was the hottest summer Desmond could remember.

And he had to go running in it.

That was the problem when you messed up. You were punished. It was completely unfair, but it happened. Desmond had to do _five_ laps around the entire Farm, and the Farm was about a five mile circuit. So that was twenty-five miles. He’d been at it since lunch. He’d disobeyed his teacher when they’d told him to do something. What it had been was inconsequential now. All that mattered was that Desmond hadn’t wanted to do it and so he was being punished. If he’d just been any kid it wouldn’t have mattered, they would have made him do a lap. But he was Andrew’s kid? Son of the Farm’s leader? He had to do _five_ laps. Andrew was going to chew him out tonight, he just knew it.

He was running past his house and waved at his brother who was sitting on the back porch working on something in his lap. His brother waved back, also waving a bottle above his head. Water break. He turned and ran towards the back of the house.

“You’re going to learn to stay out of trouble one day,” Duncan said. Desmond was eleven now, really starting to do the training they were supposed to do. He saw now why Duncan had hated it so much. So much talking about killing. Duncan had hated the martial arts training too though. Desmond didn’t, he liked it. He didn’t like Duncan seeing him like it though. Duncan always got a disappointed look in his eyes when Desmond was _too_ good or liked going to Forms _too_ much.

“No I won’t,” Desmond said and took the bottle Duncan offered him, noticing a strange brace on his forearm. Desmond had never seen it before. 

“No you won’t,” Duncan agreed teasingly as Desmond chugged the slightly above body temperature water. “How many more do you have to do?”

“Uh—h,” Desmond said intelligently, sputtering, “Two?”

“So done in time for dinner then?”

“Yeah,” Desmond said.

“Good. Dad’s going to be home for dinner too.”

“Great,” and they both turned and looked at the back door when they heard the truck pull up, the door opening and closing. “Or sooner,” Desmond said with a thread of worry in his voice when the front door slammed shut. 

Desmond was sort of afraid of their dad. He never hit Desmond or anything. But yelling was a possibility, or just outright hostility when he heard bad reports about him. When he was disciplined by the teachers Andrew usually locked him in the basement for the night, sometimes two. Desmond had hoped he wouldn’t be home tonight so the harsh punishment would wear off. Or at the very least he’d be able to sleep in his own bed after running twenty-five miles in the hot sun. Looked like that was out the window.

“Duncan!” Andrew yelled from inside the house. He didn’t sound angry, but Andrew never had any care to give about Duncan. Desmond had often heard Andrew tell Duncan he needed to ‘get with the program’ and that basically meant ‘stop being a failure’ in Miles speak. Duncan refused to fight, refused to kill. He was passive. At least when people were looking. They had a dummy down in the basement. Desmond didn’t use it for obvious reasons that he hated going down there. Duncan used it though and broke it _at least_ once every five weeks. The only reason Desmond knew was because he usually spent a night in the basement once every five weeks and he’d never seen the same dummy twice. Desmond was smart enough to know that his brother had a lot of issues though he hadn’t gone to therapy in nearly two years. When he’d turned seventeen Andrew had said Duncan ‘should be over it’ because it ‘hadn’t been that bad’.

“Back porch,” Duncan called.

“I should uh— probably get back to my laps,” Desmond said.

“I think you’ve run enough though, don’t you?” Duncan asked.

“… Yeah,” Desmond said. Duncan also liked to break the rules more than Desmond. Only Duncan never got caught. He was also an adult, there weren’t as many rules for him to break. He usually let Desmond break the rules though. Like doing three laps instead of five.

Andrew opened the back door. He had that same look in his eyes as always, a hair away from disappointment. That was a running theme in Desmond’s life, especially since Duncan had ended up in the hospital. That he and Duncan were failures. Andrew never said it aloud of course, but Desmond could always see it. Duncan was a cripple, completely blind in one eye, and crippled ‘further’ by refusing to fight. Desmond on the other hand was a delinquent. He hated rules and being told what to do and always talked back. Andrew blamed Duncan for that since Duncan talked back too and questioned everything and demanded answers. None of the teachers liked that, Andrew liked it less. Duncan sometimes slept in the basement too.

“There you are,” Andrew said, looking at Duncan and then his eyes zeroed in on Desmond and Desmond knew he was sleeping in the basement tonight. Crap. “Did you finish your laps?” he asked in a hard tone.

“Yes,” he said in a weak voice. He always crumpled in front of their dad. His dad was just so… big. Like he just looked like he knew what he was doing, Desmond didn’t even question if he should listen to half the things Andrew said. He did because Andrew was his dad. Duncan used to. He’d stopped recently.

“No you haven’t. Go finish them,” he pointed out to the perimeter.

“Des its fine,” Duncan said, “stay.”

“Duncan,” Andrew said in a hard voice.

“What?” Duncan asked and pushed himself to his feet. Duncan was taller than their dad. Like really tall, taller than anyone in the Farm. And for a guy who didn’t fight he was still super buff and you wouldn’t want to take a punch from him. Desmond didn’t know what Duncan did while Desmond had classes, but he looked as strong as any of the other girls and boys his age. And Duncan was ‘crippled’. 

“Can’t throw us both in the basement,” Duncan sneered. He motioned with one hand to Desmond and Desmond took it. Duncan dragged Desmond into the house. “Go take a shower so you can do the schoolwork you missed.”

“Homework after dinner?” Desmond asked. Usually he did it before dinner. He liked having a routine, and always felt weird when it was disrupted.

“Yeah,” Duncan said. “Go on,” and he gently pushed Desmond towards the bathroom as Andrew came back into the house. Desmond ducked into the bathroom and peered out of the crack in the door when he heard the back door slam. He couldn’t see anything from this angle and so far there was no fighting. So far.

Desmond undressed to shower and as he was getting clean he heard the fight start. Or probably not start. Andrew and Duncan always argued in inside speaking voices with clenched teeth and hard tones. Since Duncan had stopped going to Lisa it happened more. Desmond sleeping in Duncan’s bed that night always happened those nights too, at least nights Duncan didn’t sleep in the basement. Duncan would hold him so tight it hurt those nights until he fell asleep and relaxed. But this wasn’t like those fights.

Sometimes Andrew yelled at Desmond because he knew it scared Desmond and he’d get angry and yell and Desmond would behave for a few weeks before he started mouthing off again. But Andrew didn’t yell at Duncan because Duncan didn’t respond to it. Andrew couldn’t scare Duncan. But tonight they were yelling. So loud Desmond could hear it through the walls, but not what they were saying.

He started when he heard a bang.

Desmond scrambled out of the shower, still covered in suds and grabbed a towel before lurching out of the bathroom and down the hall. His throat closed up at what he saw. 

They weren’t yelling anymore. But they were _definitely_ fighting. Punching at each other and kicking like Desmond learned in Forms. Only a lot faster, and a lot more like they meant it too. He flinched back when Andrew hit Duncan sending him crashing into a wall, that was the bang he’d heard. Duncan shook himself and peeled himself off the wall and Desmond’s eyes widened when Duncan literally cleared three feet when he jumped and tackled Andrew so they both crashed to the ground.

Desmond watched, his mouth open, as Duncan punched Andrew in the face. Not the head, the face like they were trained to do in Forms. You were only supposed to hit someone in the face if you actually wanted to hurt them. The punch made Andrew’s head go all cockeyed. Then Duncan raised his left hand, the one with the brace, and a knife appeared under his fingers. Desmond gasped a little when Duncan brought the knife down right into Andrew’s throat. Then he did it again, and again, and several more times but Desmond was looking away, curled up into a ball and shaking, holding his knees to his eyes. He could still hear the sound of the blade meeting flesh repeatedly and tears leaked from his eyes against his knees.

Then the only sound in the room was Duncan’s heavy breathing and then a long, relaxed sounding sigh. More like a sigh of relief. Desmond still wasn’t looking but he heard Duncan get up. “Now who’s the cripple, _dad_?” Duncan asked and then there was a strangely calm silence. “Ah crap,” he said, the calm broken and Desmond knew he’d been seen. “Crap.”

Desmond clutched tighter to his legs when Duncan walked over to him but not next to him. “Hey, D,” Duncan said gently and Desmond peered at him from his legs, shaking. Duncan was crouched a few feet away, his eyes and body language gentle. The knife was gone and the only blood on him was on his left wrist and around the brace he was wearing. Desmond scooted away from him. “Hey now,” Duncan dropped onto his knees and half crawled over to him. 

“C’mon, c’mere. It’s okay, its okay,” he shushed and grabbed Desmond who tried to scramble away. But he was too slow and too weak to get out of Duncan’s grip. Duncan ended up wrapping his arms around him. Desmond struggled a little. He’d just watched his brother _murder_ their dad. It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay! “I’m not going to hurt you,” Duncan said gently, pulling a still struggling Desmond into his lap. “No one’s going to hurt you anymore,” he held Desmond to him until he stopped struggling. “He won’t hurt you anymore.”

“You killed dad,” his voice was gone and he sort of squeaked it.

“Yeah… yeah I did,” Duncan breathed and Desmond didn’t have to look to see the relief on Duncan’s face. The bliss in it, but not happiness or joy. It was a release. “And now he can’t hurt us anymore,” Duncan kissed the top of Desmond’s head. “None of these people are going to hurt us anymore,” another kiss.

“Won’t you get in trouble?” Desmond asked, voice trembling. He was old enough to know what treason was and that in their little community what Duncan had done was so so so _so_ bad.

“Yes,” Duncan said softly. “But it’ll be okay,” he promised.

“How?” Desmond asked.

“We’re not staying here anymore,” Duncan said, and pressed his cheek onto Desmond’s head. “I can’t let you stay here anymore. I _refuse_ ,” he said angrily. Duncan stood and dragged Desmond with him. “Finish your shower and then you need to pack a bag to leave. Like how Charlie showed you in case of an emergency.”

“Duncan—

“Yeah?” Duncan asked him gently. The violence and rage he’d directed at their father wasn’t even a shadow. It literally wasn’t there. Desmond never thought for even an instant that Duncan would ever hurt him. Not ever.

“I love you,” he said.

Duncan smiled at him, “Love you too, D. Now go finish your shower,” and he pushed Desmond towards the shower. Desmond went, and finished cleaning off. He packed his bag and saw that Duncan had also showered, using the master shower in their parents’ room. 

Duncan was in the car out front and Desmond got in. He kinda ducked down since he wasn’t supposed to leave the Farm without their dad’s permission. Duncan left the Farm all the time though. He was usually the one who did supply runs to Hill City or if they needed other stuff all the way up to Rapid City. None of the adults liked leaving the Farm for that sort of stuff. They were all too paranoid.

“Duncan,” Desmond said as they were driving down the dirt road that lead to the highway, “where are we going?”

Duncan didn’t take his eye off the road, “Somewhere far away from here,” he said. “Turn on the radio, lets listen to some music.”

“Music?” Desmond asked, he didn’t know what music was. There was no music in the Farm.

“Yeah, music, go on,” and Desmond reached over to tune the radio and found a station. They sat in silence and listened to the radio, Desmond listening to it intently. It was the first time he’d ever heard music.

“This is amazing,” Desmond said after they’d listened to a song or two.

Duncan laughed, “Des,” he said, “You have _no_ idea what its like out here. Its amazing. Everything is amazing.”

“Are we going to see it?” Desmond asked.

Duncan smiled at him, taking his eye off the road for a moment, “Yeah. We are.” Desmond smiled and sat back, the thoughts about worrying about their abusive dad had already left his mind. It was just Duncan and him now, and they were going to be okay.


	5. From Eden

There were a dozen people waiting for him when Altair drove up to the Farm. They all had guns and suspicious stares. He stopped the car before entering the compound and got out of the vehicle, hands raised. “Weapons aren’t necessary brothers,” he said and felt twelve pairs of eyes looking at his hands, or rather his left hand, where he was missing his ring finger. Was always a risk when he showed up with it just gone instead of branded.

“And who’re you friend?” one man asked, Altair didn’t know him.

“Melik,” Altair said, “my name’s Melik ibn-Umar, I have a message from the Mentor.”

They eyed him suspiciously. “Bring it here,” the man who’d spoken before ordered.

“Okay, I’m going to reach into the car and get it,” he said and then slowly leaned down and took it from the center counsel. Then he walked it calmly to the people with guns. “You in charge?” he asked the man.

“Yes, give it here,” and Altair offered him the envelope. It wasn’t from Jefferson, but the man might as well have been a myth. No one knew what his handwriting looked like, or his signature. But they did recognize the Mentor’s seal. Altair had stolen it off the Mentor three Mentors ago. Was helpful when moving around the Order without wanting to be known. Just had to put the stamp on it and they’d do what he said. The thing about it though was that it wasn’t some special stamp. Not even their symbol. Just a very specifically shaped V letter stamp, and it had to be a V. Any other orientation of the symbol and you were boned.

The man took the fake letter from the envelope and read it, squinted at Altair a moment, then continued reading. The man folded the letter back up and shouldered his rifle. “Welcome to the Farm, Melik,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m Andrew Miles, commanding Master.”

“Pleasure,” Altair said and shook the man’s hand. Well that had been easier than he’d thought. He was looking for a man with the name Miles. Andrew was a broad man, wide shoulders, hard blue eyes eyes, and dark blonde hair. Every part of Andrew looked hard and mean. Hopefully he wouldn’t give Altair any problems.

“Who’s he?” someone asked Andrew.

“One of our brothers needing to lie low for a while,” Andrew said. “Lets get you in the compound then Melik,” and he nodded towards Altair’s car. He got back in it and they stepped out of the way as he drove past.

With the quick efficiency of Assassins Altair was put up with the Calloways, sleeping in their spare room and helped around the Farm when asked. It wasn’t as big as some of the other compounds he’d been to, but that just made their paranoia that much more pronounced. It also made their fanaticism more obvious, especially when it came to their children.

After he’d settled in Andrew came to him and invited him to dinner. Of course Altair accepted.

Altair found himself in Andrew’s home with his wife and young son. “Honey, this is Melik ib-Umar,” Andrew introduced them. “Melik, this is my wife, Kayle.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Altair said, shaking Kayle’s hand. She was a lovely woman in both voice and body. He couldn’t pin down exactly _where_ she was from but it seemed like she was from a bit of everywhere. Her hair was black but not curly and her eyes were the color of the icy northern Pacific Ocean. She had a full figure but could see the curve of muscles in her arms and legs.

“You gave us quite a fright when you showed up Melik,” she said, her perfectly shaped lips curving into a smile. “We thought you were something worse.”

Oh you have no idea lady, Altair thought to himself. Instead he just sort of laughed, “Me? Hardly. I’m as sweet as a new baby.”

“A very deadly baby if what the Mentor’s letter said is true,” Andrew put in.

“Ah… yeah,” Altair said sheepishly. His persona was a modest man, almost embarrassed by his abilities who didn’t like to show off. “The Mentor is heavy with the praise when he wants to be.” Then he looked around Andrew to where their son was standing and watching from the stairs warily. “And who’s that?”

“That’s Duncan. Come say hello, boy,” Andrew said and Duncan came down the stairs to stand in front of Altair. Was this who he was looking for? Maybe.

He crouched in front of the boy, who looked like a small version of Andrew only with his mother’s dark eyes. “Hi Duncan, I’m Melik,” he smiled at the child widely.

“Hi,” Duncan said shyly and then went over to hide behind Kayle. Altair turned on the balls of his feet and looked up at the Miles’.

“He’s kinda shy,” Kayle said.

“Understandable,” Altair said. He wondered if Duncan had ever met a ‘new’ person in his life, or if he’d only known people from the Farm. “No need to be scared Duncan, I’m one of the good guys, like your mom and dad,” he assured Duncan. Duncan just looked at him, but said nothing. Altair just kept smiling and stood up. He’d have to warm the kid up to him. Shouldn’t be _that_ difficult.

They all had dinner together and then Altair went back to the Calloways. The next week was uninteresting. Altair got to know the people in the Farm, made friends with them, got to teach a history class to the Farm’s children, and planned what to do. By the end of the second week Andrew trusted him, Duncan had warmed up to him, the Farm liked him, and Kayle had him over for dinner nearly every night.

He found out why in the middle of the third week. Jack Calloway was out for the night and Altair had had dinner with the Miles’. He liked having dinner with them. From what he could tell it was one of the few times Duncan could talk uninterrupted. He was a very clever boy, very curious. From Andrew’s face Altair knew he didn’t like his son asking so many questions, or wondering so loudly about things, or knowing things he shouldn’t know at his age.

He’d stayed and helped Kayle clean up. Andrew had left, he needed to take care of something he’d forgotten he’d said. So he’d helped Kayle instead and had even helped Duncan get into bed. The boy _loved_ to ask Altair questions and unlike probably most of the Farm Altair was always willing to answer them for him.

When he got back to the Calloways’ house he heard noises coming from Sandy’s room. Nothing too particular, except Altair’s room was across from it. He thought nothing of it, showered, and read one of the books in the living room till he was tired. By the time he was ready for bed the noises had stopped. He brushed his teeth and went into his room, turning off the light and laid down.

He was laying there when he heard the door across the hall open. He heard Sandy’s voice, she sounded lonesome and yet giddy. Odd. He sat up in bed a bit when he heard _Andrew_ ’s voice. And he was _shushing_ her, mirth in his voice.

Confused he got out of bed and walked quietly towards the door to put his ear up to the crack.

“—shouldn’t have stayed this late,” he heard Andrew say quietly, to not be overheard.

“I told you you could go out the window.”

“I’m not some teenager who exits out a window,” Andrew scolded and Sandy laughed into her hand, trying to keep quiet. “He just wouldn’t go to sleep,” and then they were walking away from the door. Altair frowned and opened it a bit, to hear better.

“Won’t your wife be worried you were gone so long?”

“Nah. She knows I work late. Still, its better if she didn’t know.”

“I’ll say,” and Altair’s brows furrowed. His grip on the door knob tightened to the point he was hurting his own hand.

“You working late tomorrow?” Sandy asked.

“Should I be?” Andrew’s voice was amused and Altair’s recognized the sound of kiss smothered laughter when he heard it. “I’ll take that at a yes.”

“See you tomorrow,” Sandy’s voice was almost indistinct.

Altair didn’t want to hear more. He closed his door quietly and went and sat on his bed in a cold fury.

He liked Andrew. The man had good morals. Was more than a bit of a hard ass, but overall was a nice guy. Loved his wife, wasn’t a terrible father, was an adequate leader. In a week or two Altair might even have numbered Andrew as one of his friends. Not one he’d share his secret with, but a friend regardless.

And he’d just caught him _cheating_ on his wife.

How someone could cheat on a creature like Kayle Altair had no idea. She was everything a man who’d been taken from the outside could have wanted in a wife. She was beautiful, talented, and came from a long line of Assassins. Andrew was _mad_ to think he should just… just sleep another woman. Another _married_ woman at that!

Altair didn’t go to sleep that night, or even his play at sleep where he laid in bed for the night, resting his body and attempting to rest his mind. Instead he just sat there in a self righteous rage until dawn. Then he left without even a good morning to Sandy and went out to the practice yard. He punched a dummy for a few hours until he was a bit calmer. He returned to the Calloway house, washed and decided to go have breakfast with the Miles’. He fully intended to reveal the truth too. Because there were few things Altair disliked than cheater.

Kayle was making breakfast when he knocked and Duncan got the door. “Hey, D,” Altair said, ruffling Duncan’s hair and entered. Andrew was at the table, drinking coffee.

“Ah, Melik, come to weasel some of my pancakes out of me have you?” Kayle teased him.

Altair put on a fake smile, “Me? Never,” he laughed. He sat across from Andrew. “You work late last night?” he asked Andrew but not sharply.

“Unfortunately,” Andrew sighed. “Later than I’d have liked to.”

“Here you go, dear,” Kayle said, smiling and put a small stack of pancakes in front of Andrew.

“Thank you, honey,” Andrew smiled back at her but Altair wasn’t looking at Andrew, he was looking at Kayle. She knew. She knew Andrew had slept with another woman last night, and was here smiling through her possible fury. Altair swallowed the bitter pill of silence and just took his pancakes when she offered him some.

When Andrew left for the day to handle the daily affairs of the Farm Altair lingered after Duncan ran off to class. Kayle was in the kitchen, cleaning before she went to do her own work for the day. She was a code cracker and had been working on the new Abstergo cipher for weeks trying to crack it.

Altair went over to her. “You need something else Melik?” she asked him.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before just saying it, “Your husband is cheating on you.”

She looked away from, down to the sink where she was cleaning their breakfast plates, “I know,” she said and it wasn’t broken.

“You know? Then why haven’t you put a stop to it?” he demanded.

She looked at Altair with a steel smile, “Because I don’t care. We put on an act for Duncan, so he thinks we’re in love. But the truth is Andrew’s never loved me. And if he’s off _fucking_ some other _whore_ in the Farm then he isn’t trying to force himself on me. So I don’t care if he’s got some slut on the side.”

Altair stared at her in shock. Kayle was normally so even tempered, even soft spoken, and let people sort of walk all over her. “But you do care,” Altair said, “otherwise you wouldn’t get so angry.”

“ _Melik_ ,” she sent him a hard look. “I appreciate your concern. But its none of your business. We didn’t want to be married, yet here we are. So we go on for Duncan and he can fuck any other woman he wants if he wants. He’s their problem.”

“Does he know you know?”

“Of course not. Andrew thinks he’s so good at keeping quiet about it. But when your husband comes home smelling like another woman so many times as he comes up behind you in bed; you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Altair said.

“Save it,” and she turned away from him. She stood there, washing dishes angrily and Altair just stood there watching her for a time. Then she turned to him, “Do you want to have sex?” she asked.

“E-excuse me?” Altair didn’t have to fake his confusion, bewilderment, or the fact that he _squeaked_.

“Do you?”

“I— what? Where is this coming from? To get back at your husband?”

“No,” she said, “You’re just… nice, and handsome, and I’m a lonely woman with a cheating husband.”

“Andrew trusts me. And while you don’t care if he’s with someone else I think he’d take issue with it,” because Andrew struck him as the type of guy who’d be like that. Which was to say; totally hypocritical. 

“So?” she asked, “Is that a no?”

Altair was reeling, he honestly had no idea. “Uh…” She rose her brows at him, “I think it would be improper.”

“Alright,” and she turned away from him and went back to her washing. Altair fled, because he didn’t know what else to do and because he didn’t want to be around her anymore. 

He made himself busy the rest of the day and spent the entire night at home, even though Sandy asked him several times if he was going to the Miles’ or someone else’s house for dinner. She wanted him gone, he knew that, so Andrew could come over. After dinner she left, but came back a few minutes later, annoyed. But she said nothing. Saying anything would reveal her affair.

When Altair went to bed that night he laid awake listening. But no one came over, and Sandy didn’t leave. He also heard no illicit noises from Sandy and Jack’s bedroom.

— 

The rest of the week Altair avoided the Miles’ house, and only saw Duncan when he wasn’t in lessons. He gave Andrew a wide berth as well, always having an excuse to be busy if and when the man called after him.

Nearly two weeks passed before Duncan came up to him. “Mel,” he said, they’d climbed one of the trees outside of the Farm.

“Yeah?”

“Mommy’s been really sad lately.”

“She has been?”

“Yeah. She said she did something bad and regrets it. But won’t tell me what.”

“What do you think it is?” Altair asked.

Duncan was pensive for a moment, “I don’t know. She told me to ask you to come to dinner though. She said its been a while, and only you appreciate her curried goat. Daddy doesn’t like it,” Altair laughed.

“I’ll come for dinner,” he said.

“Good. Mommy will be happy,” Duncan smiled widely at Altair.

Now Altair had to figure out what he was going to do when he saw Kayle. Of course the most obvious answer was nothing. He hadn’t _done_ anything. If anything he’d been immature and basically run away from her when she said she was interested in him sexually. He was… weird about it. It was literally the last thing he concerned himself with. Which of course wasn’t a surprise. When you were as old as Altair you’d bedded many women, and many men, and many everything in between.

For a moment it was hard to swallow. He remembered once asking Cain why he never went with all the women who clearly fancied him. Cain always dispensed the same disbelievable words: he didn’t desire sex anymore. At the time Altair had thought he was mad. What sort of man didn’t want sex? He’d been much younger than, trying to get over Maria still, trying to get over Malik still and wanting to see and sample the entire world. But he was old now. Now he didn’t want those things either. Well, it was more like he never actually thought about sex really and felt no desire towards other people. Not like that at least.

Still he could face Kayle. They’d done nothing, everything would be okay.

When he showed up for dinner Altair swallowed when he saw Kayle. Since Duncan had mentioned his mother that afternoon he’d been thinking about her the entire rest of the day. He hadn’t realized he was capable of still feeling like that towards a person. It was a strange, alien, feeling to him. Kayle was all prettied up up dinner, lipstick, blush and eyeshadow and eyeliner.

Dinner was an uninteresting affair, exactly like all the other dinners Altair had sat in on with the Miles’ before. Andrew was obviously under the impression that Kayle had made herself extra pretty tonight on his behalf. By her smiles and flirting directed at him it wasn’t hard to think that. Except for when she’d cast a look at Altair and he felt like a young man seeing a pretty girl for the first time. 

He mentally cursed himself for thinking it, but the way she looked at him reminded him of a distant memory of a woman he’d never bedded but courted for weeks. She’d been married too, one of the prettiest things he’d ever laid eyes on with legs like sin, a full chest, and the face of a cherub. They’d danced around each other endlessly, playing a game of cat and mouse, both interested in one another but wouldn’t break the vow of a woman to her husband. She’d been drawn by his exotic looks and dark skin as he had been by her wicked mind and cunning tongue.

It had ended with her husband chasing him out of town, thinking Altair had laid with his wife. He thought perhaps she’d put it into her husband’s mind that Altair had done that. Cain hadn’t let it go for _years_ after that and told him if he’d just slept with her it never would have happened.

Something told him he might meet a similar fate as then if he didn’t approach this situation correctly. Especially not with the way Kayle gave him subtle looks.

In short: he was fucked. Both ways.

After dinner everyone helped with the dishes. Andrew didn’t have business that night. No shit. Jack was home, meaning Sandy wasn’t available for their affair. Altair lingered a bit after dinner, played with Duncan some, talked with Andrew about the state of affairs about this or that. Then he left, Kayle getting a promise out of him to come for breakfast. Jack and Sandy were in the living room, talking, playing footsies. He just went right to his room and laid down, staring at the ceiling for several hours before he closed his eyes and faked sleep.

—

Nothing came of Kayle’s sly looks from that dinner. For which Altair was a bit relieved. It meant he could be near her without it getting weird for him. He found helping her crack the Abstergo code was enjoyable, so spent a great deal of time helping her with that. So it was often just them in the house when Andrew and Duncan left for the day.

They were making progress. Abstergo was smart, as smart as the Assassins. Their code was extensive and complex. So even if the Assassins got a hold of it they couldn’t crack it easily, or not without a great deal of the code. Kayle had been getting updates for weeks via pigeon with new parts of the code, and she sent out messages on the state of her breaking it. With Altair they actually covered a lot of ground, but it was by no means ‘cracked’.

Duncan came home in the middle of the afternoon and Kayle made them lunch.

“PBJ for my sweet boy,” Kayle said fondly and stroked Duncan’s head as she put the sandwich in front of Duncan, cut into triangles and the crusts cut off.

“Thanks mommy,” Duncan said brightly to her. Kayle just smiled at him adoringly. While she didn’t love Andrew it was clear they loved their son, more than anything, even if Duncan looked like his father. Dark blonde hair, darker than Andrew’s, his nose, his jaw, his mouth. Andrew’s everything except the eyes. Duncan’s eyes belonged to Kayle. “Can I have juice.”

“Of course,” and she poured him a cup.

Altair had just continued working on the cipher while this was going on, he honestly forgot food most of the time if he didn’t eat with the Calloways or the Miles’. “And for my favorite helper,” he looked up, surprised, when Kayle put lunch in front of him. It was also a sandwich, but bigger. Meat and veggies and cheese with homemade mayo. Like Duncan’s it was cut into triangles, the crusts removed. When he looked up at her at her in confusion she just smiled at him.

“You don’t like crusts either?” Duncan asked and Kayle went to get her own lunch.

“Uh… they’re okay,” Altair shrugged, trying to figure out what this meant. Well, he knew, but didn’t know. Understanding women had always alluded Altair. It had started with the mysterious Adha, and even his first wife Maria, who’d been so straight forward had often left him confused. It hadn’t gotten any easier to figure them out even as he got older. Ezio understood women, sort of. But Ezio was also a fool.

Then again so was Altair so who was he to talk?

“I hate crust. They taste so icky,” Duncan said, making a face, and ate his sandwich and drank his juice.

Altair said nothing and instead Kayle filled the lunch with idle talk with Duncan. Altair just ate his lunch. Then Duncan left for the second half of his lessons of the day and Kayle took his plate and washed them. Altair let himself sink back into the work. He understood work better than he did women. Kayle rejoined him and they worked in silence for a bit.

“Who is it?” she asked out of the blue.

“Huh?” Altair asked, but was distracted by what he was doing. He could see he was nearly about to make a small breakthrough on this damn code.

“Who’s my husband sleeping with?”

Altair’s head snapped up. “What?” She just gave him a look. “Uh… I think its better if I don’t say.”

“Do you even know?”

“Yes,” Altair said.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t think I will. Only one person can keep a secret. Once two people know it’ll get out, and when three know soon everyone will,” Altair said.

She frowned, “A hint then?”

“I would have told you before. But you said you didn’t care,” he reminded her.

Her mouth was tight, “I don’t care he’s lying to me. I want to know which of my friends is lying to me,” and he had to hand it to her there. “Mel, tell me,” she said.

He sighed, “Sandy,” he said.

Kayle looked away, furious. But she held it in and snuffed it out. When she looked back at Altair she wasn’t angry. “Thank you,” she said.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing,” she said, “but now I have less reason to like that woman.” Altair should have never opened his stupid mouth.

They worked the rest of the day and then Kayle started to make dinner. While she did Altair packed up their stuff and put it away. He stayed for dinner. Andrew wasn’t there for dinner but when Duncan came home he announced that daddy said he wouldn’t be home for dinner because of work. No emotion flashed through Kayle’s face at that and she went on with the night as usual.

Dinner was nice, Duncan talked the entire time. Altair helped Duncan with his homework, played with him a bit, and then Duncan was put to bed. That just left Kayle and Altair alone, both knowing Andrew was somewhere banging Sandy Calloway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Altair said as he made to leave.

“Goodnight, Mel. Come for breakfast?” Kayle said forlornly. 

Altair just nodded, he’d come, before he left. Jack was up, smoking a cigarette, when he got home. He said Sandy was helping a friend and sorry if they disturbed Altair when they went to bed later. Altair just said it’d be fine and went to shower and then bed. He heard Sandy come home late and heard her and Jack exchange words, they didn’t sound kind. He just blocked them out and rolled onto his side, away from the door. The voices died down, they went to their room and the house was quiet. Altair felt nothing as he lay there, waiting for morning.

When he saw Kayle for breakfast she was her usual self. Smiling at Andrew, doting on Duncan. Being a model wife. He wondered how much she hurt knowing Andrew was sleeping with one of her friends. Altair said little during breakfast, also not feeling very hungry. Breakfast ended, Duncan and Andrew went off for the day.

Altair helped Kayle with the dishes. She’d made a big breakfast that day, since it was Sunday. There were no days off on the Farm, but she always liked to do something big and special on Sunday.

“How are you?” Altair asked her.

“Fine,” she said.

“Really?”

“As much as I can be. My husband came home last night smelling like sex and didn’t even bother to try and wash it off himself. He thought I was asleep and wouldn’t notice.” Her hands gripped the plate she was cleaning so hard it shook. “I have _never_ felt so humiliated in my life,” she seethed.

“I’m sorry.”

“I had never been so close to murder as last night, Mel,” she said, looking at him, fire in her eyes. “ _Real_ murder and not just the sanitized, cold, efficiency they pound into you here.”

“I doubt that would have made you feel better,” Altair said quickly.

“It would have,” she said fiercely. “And I would have been rid of that man in my life, like he never should have been in it in the first place,” she spat.

“Uh? What do you mean? Why are you married to him anyway?”

She looked straight ahead at the tiled backsplash. “We were young,” she was still young, not even thirty yet, Andrew a few years older. “My father doesn’t like Andrew. Thinks he’s a try hard from outside our way of life. When he came to Willow Creek for training my father told me to stay away from him,” Willow Creek was the Assassin compound in Idaho, probably where Kayle was from. “He didn’t want his daughter hanging around some guy from outside.

“I had a life all set for me you know. Arranged marriage sure, but to a great guy in Europe who could trace his blood back to the Assassin Antonie de Jaager. Met him a few times, he thought I was the _most_ amazing thing he’d ever seen. He was handsome and charming and thought I was wonderful. A perfect husband and the best my father could hope for. I’m his pride and joy, his only daughter, he wanted the best for me.” She laughed bitterly. “And I threw it _all_ away in a stupid act of rebellion.” Altair said nothing. “As soon as my father told me to stay away from Andrew I couldn’t help but want know him. He can be so charming and cunning when he wants, and so handsome when you don’t see the slimey man he is under it.

“We slept together. I ended up pregnant by accident. And my life _ended_.” She said nothing for a time, she looked so angry, but her anger was frustration at herself. “My father broke up my engagement with the European, and I couldn’t escape.” She looked at Altair, “Were you born into this, Mel?” she asked.

“I was,” he said softly.

“Then you know what a burden it is. Its worse when you’re a woman from a long line of Assassins. They expect things of you. They expect _children_. And you can’t even get rid of it even if its to a blood sucking other like Andrew.”

“Your father made you carry the child against your will?” he asked. She nodded, miserable.

“And forced me to marry Andrew and once Andrew’s training was done pushed us out here, out of sight, so no one could see his shame. I was an idiot!” she cried and pressed her hands to her eyes. “I ruined my own life, for _nothing_. I’m the family embarrassment,” and she sounded on the verge of tears.

Altair was at a loss for a moment. Then he went over to her and hugged her. “Your life isn’t ruined, you aren’t an embarrassment,” he said gently as she hugged him back tightly. She sniffed, but didn’t cry. “Did having Duncan ruin your life?”

“No,” she breathed. “Duncan is the only good thing.”

“Then see, it isn’t ruined,” he said gently, rubbing her back comfortingly. “You aren’t an embarrassment, you’re the best code cracker I know.”

She laughed a little, “I’m the only one you know, Mel.”

“Then I’m not lying am I?”

She laughed again softly, “No, I guess not,” she said, still hugging him leaning on him.

“And your father is the _fool_ if he’s ashamed of you, when you’re the best person I’ve seen in this place. And we both know good people and the Assassins don’t really mix,” she was the only adult who wasn’t red in his Eagle Vision. But she wasn’t blue either. Rather she was very faintly yellow, not quite the gold he was used to, but not grey, and certainly not red either.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I mean it,” Altair said and pulled back from her. Her eyes were wet, but she hadn’t been crying. “Don’t listen to some stupid men who think they know anything about women,” he said and wiped under one of her eyes with his thumb, squeezing out the moisture. “Trust me, I know; we’re all stupid,” and she laughed and it was like music.

“Thank you, Mel,” she said and he noticed her arms were still around his neck. He hoped he didn’t look too nervous. “I’m glad I’ve got you at least,” and the hair all over his scalp stood up on end when she kissed him.

On a perfectly reasonable level Altair knew he _shouldn’t_ kiss Kayle back. He wasn’t an adulterer. But the reasonable part of Altair apparently hadn’t woken up that day, because he kissed Kayle back. Her fingers went into his hair and he pulled her close to him.

He didn’t know how but they ended up on Kayle’s bed,kissing and moving against one another. Somewhere in there clothes came off. The sex was good. Like… surprisingly good. Altair hadn’t had any in so long he sort of forgot what it felt like.

When they were done they lay side by side on their backs. Altair was sweating and shirtless, his pants down around his knees. Kayle had lost everything but her bra and a smile, her panties were bunched up around her calf almost mockingly.

“Huh,” Altair said after a moment and that made Kayle laugh.

“That was fun,” she said.

“ _Huh_ ,” he said again smartly.

She rolled onto her side and looked at him, “What, that all you got to say?” she asked running her hand up his chest.

He looked at her, “Sorry Andrew, you missed out,” and that made her smile and kiss him again. They ended up having sex again before Duncan came home for lunch. The rest of the day they actually managed to get some work done. Kayle changed the sheets before Andrew came home for dinner and Altair left right after dinner, not lingering like he often did. He had no kind gazes for Andrew that night either.

They didn’t partake in the affair every day, but often enough after that. Between breakfast and lunch, always before Duncan came home. Some nights Kayle convinced Altair to stay after Duncan had gone to bed when Andrew ‘worked late’, but those nights were rare. Doing what they were doing during the day made it feel less real, less wrong, less like they were doing something wrong. Andrew also cheated on Kayle at night, so the night was tainted by him and Altair didn’t want to become like Andrew.

For a while everything was fine. They ended up cracking the code by the end of the month. Once it was done Altair split his attention. In the morning he spent his time with Kayle. Sometimes making love, other times just talking or working on something else. In the afternoon he was free. He ended up teaching more classes to the children. He wanted to spend more time with Duncan, who he was _sure_ was the boy he’d seen all those years ago in the Apple.

Three and a half months since Altair had first come here, and everything was running smoothly.

At least until it wasn’t.

He was lying in bed with Kayle. Duncan would be coming home soon for lunch, but they were just lazing about. Altair was pressed up against her side, one hand on her flat, toned, stomach while she played with his hair. He was dozing. He’d been sleeping better since they’d started sleeping together than he could remember. He knew why. It wasn’t anything so gentle like he was in love with her. Rather he felt safe enough to let his guard down. And he supposed that for a man like Altair that was about as good as love. He didn’t think about it too hard.

“Mel,” she said, toying with his hair.

“Hmm?” he grunted.

“I need to tell you something.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m serious. Look at me,” she ordered.

He opened his eyes and looked up at her, “What is it?” he asked.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times and she licked her lips, “Please don’t be angry.”

“Uh?”

“I’m pregnant,” and Altair felt himself go dead white. “Oh don’t look like that _please_ ,” she begged even as he sat up and looked down at her.

“Are you really?” he asked, looking at her body critically.

“I am,” she said. “I took a pregnancy test. It said I was.”

He looked away from her, at the far wall. “Fuck,” he said.

“Oh c’mon, don’t be like that.”

He looked at her, “Its mine?” she nodded. “ _Fuck_ ,” and he ran his hand through his hair. This shouldn’t have happened. Duncan wasn’t the boy he’d been looking for. He was too kind and gentle. Andrew and Kayle could have had another child. But then he’d showed up and put himself in their lives, thinking Duncan was the boy. Even though he knew it was foolish to think so. Ezio had told him of his meeting Minerva, and her speaking to someone who wasn’t there, who would come later. Someone named Desmond. Now what if he was never born? Andrew would know this child wasn’t his, he wouldn’t want anything to do with Kayle now. Not that he did now. But Kayle had told him they still sometimes had sex, rare though it was.

Another thought came to him that made his stomach turn over.

What if he was supposed to be here, now. What if he’d just fulfilled his the future he’d seen.

Altair hated self fulfilling prophecies. They were always the worst sort. Because they always turned out different than you expected. LIke this. He’d expected Kayle and Andrew to have a second child, a second son.

And now…

Altair groaned and rubbed his face with both hands.

He needed to figure it out though. There was a chance it _wasn’t_ his. He looked at her, she looked upset. “You’re mad,” she said.

“I’m not,” he said. “I’m just… overwhelmed,” which was a good way to put it. “Does Andrew know?”

After a moment she nodded, “He thinks its his.”

“And how do you know it isn’t?”

She made a face, “As soon as I found out I took him to bed for a few nights,” and he knew how hard that had to have been for her. She hated Andrew. She’d told him he always made her feel disgusting, dirty, unclean, and shameful. “But it wasn’t until after I found out. And before that we hadn’t had sex in six months.”

“So no chance it isn’t mine?” she shook her head. “Fuck,” he rubbed his head. “I’m not mad,” he told her, “I’m _not_. I just…” he was just a complete _idiot_. No big deal, he’d just potentially disrupted the timeline he’d been maintaining for the past five hundred years. Yeah, no big deal. “Who else knows?”

“Just you two now,” Kayle said, “and the Farm doctor.”

“And he’d never help you get rid of it,” he sighed, she shook her head. “How far are you along?”

“Three months?” she asked, “It…” she laughed helplessly, “it was pretty quick after we started this whole thing.”

“Uhg,” Altair groaned.

“Mommy!” Duncan called from the living room.

“Ah crap,” Altair rolled off the bed and yanked his clothes on.

“Mommy,” Duncan called again.

“Just a second sweetie, mommy’s busy,” Kayle said, also getting out of bed. “So, you know,” she said and pulled on a dress and that was it, not even bothering with underwear or bra. “Now what?”

Altair was struggling with his belt buckle, his hands were… trembling? Well that was annoying. “Well looks like we’re having a bastard,” he said, actually mirthfully. Wouldn’t be the first bastard he’d ever sired.

“Mel,” she said, unamused.

“What? Too archaic?” he asked.

“Barbaric more like,” she said tartly.

“Sorry. Just found out I’m a dad,” again, “kinda freaking out here. Never had worn that hat.” He finally got his belt on and yanked on a shirt as Kayle left. He heard her going ‘hello sweetie. Have good lessons?’ and then he wasn’t paying attention.

“Altair you _idiot_ ,” he told himself, rubbing his eyes. “Got a girl pregnant.” Allah, he needed someone to talk to who he could just… unload on. He needed Ezio. Well that was a thought he never thought he’d have.

He left the bedroom as Kayle was making Duncan lunch, “Hey,” Altair said, only pausing, “I’m leaving for a bit. I’ll be back later.”

“For dinner?” she asked.

“Unlikely,” he said and saw her heart drop. “I’ll be here for breakfast,” he promised.

“Okay,” she said, happier about that at least.

Altair walked out of the house and went to the car pool. He checked his own car out and said he was going to go out to get tools he needed for a project. The quartermaster gave him some bills and his keys and he got into his car. He drove off. A few miles out he pulled over to the side of the road and beat his head into the steering wheel and few times until he felt he’d punished himself enough for his stupidity at the moment.

“This is why you pull out, Altair,” he told himself. “So shit like this doesn’t happen.”

He drove up to Rapid City and checked in at a hotel where he could make long distance phone calls. He’d pay the bill when he checked out. He called the operator to connect him without the hassle of needing to know all the phone codes other than the local number. The phone started ringing.

“Hello?” Ezio’s voice was tinny over the connection.

“Ezio,” Altair said.

“Altair? What are you calling me for? Is someone dead who shouldn't be dead again?”

“No.”

“Oh… then is someone alive who shouldn’t be alive again?”

“No.”

“Is the world ending?”

“Getting closer.”

“Hmmmm,” Ezio was quiet for a second. “You did something _stupid_ didn’t you?”

“What was your first clue?”

“You only call me when someone is too dead, or too alive, for whatever you’re doing. Or when you need to bailed out of something because you miscalculated something and are now in over your head. So what is it? What’d you do?”

“I got a girl pregnant.”

There was a long silence, “Come again? I think you broke up there.”

“I am pretty sure I didn’t.”

“You did _whAT_?” he cried. “Uuuuuhg, Altair,” Ezio sighed. “I thought that was _my_ problem, not yours.”

“Well we can share stupid decisions. You make enough to go around,” Altair said.

“So who is it? How bad is it?”

“You know I was looking for a man named Miles?”

“Yes.”

“I found him, and his wife They have a son. Thought it was the boy I was looking for.”

“And let me guess, he’s not.”

“Nope.”

“And? Please don’t tell me-

“I got his wife pregnant.”

Ezio said nothing, “You know, if I could in a reasonable amount of time, I’d come over there and punch you right in your retarded face.”

“I’d honestly welcome it at this point. Since while I can do many things I can’t punch myself in the face.”

“So what are you calling me for?”

“What do I do?”

“I dunno.”

“Ezio-

“What? I don’t okay. You fucked it up, quite literally. You’re older than me too, don’t you have experience with this?”

“With children out of wedlock yes. But potentially being the _father_ of the man I’ve been hunting across time?”

“Oh… well when you put it like that.”

“Now you see the problem.”

“I mean… I guess? Like, he could still be your hero even with an incredibly inept person like you as a dad-

“Ezio” Altair growled.

“What? You fucked up, I’m allowed to mock you a bit. I don’t really know what to tell you. You’re gonna have to deal with it. And if it is your hero, well, now you have a perfect excuse to raise them.” Altair sighed a bit. “Please tell me this Miles lady is good looking at least?”

“Or what?”

“Or I’d seriously wonder about your tastes.”

“She’s… lovely,” he said.

“Well then pray your kid doesn’t have your mug-

“Ezio!” he roared and over the phone Ezio howled with laughter.

“I’m teasing. But really, I think you can handle it. What if this was supposed to happen? Maybe the Apple was trying to tell you this but you couldn’t see. This could have always happened, exactly as you saw. And now you don’t have to worry if the kid’s the right kid. It’s your kid. You’re less likely to fuck up your own kid, right?”

“Right,” Altair said slowly, but wasn’t so sure himself. He hadn’t had a terrible amount of kids, even fewer he’d actually raised. Most of ‘his’ children he’d adopted by marrying their mother. His children, at least the ones he knew about, numbered low enough to count on both hands. He didn’t know if he could do it. But he’d have Kayle right? And if nothing else, though he loathed to admit it, Andrew too. He’d planned on leaving once the second child he’d been waiting for had been born, knowing it would be raised without his influence. But already in the few hours since he’d known the idea of letting a slime like Andrew raise _his_ child made him want to gag. Over his dead body.

“The next time I see you I will punch you though. Cause I know you’ll probably need it.”

“Thanks,” Altair said sarcastically, but was only sort of sarcastic. 

“Need anything else?”

“Not really I guess. I just needed to talk to someone who’d understand.”

“You haven’t mucked it up Altair,” Ezio said. “If you had Hawk would have found you and beat you black and blue and you know it.”

“Heh, yeah,” Altair said. “Thanks, Ezio.”

“Wow I even got a thank you? Amazing, I feel so honored.”

“Fuck you,” he growled.

“That’s the Altair I know. _Arrivederci,”_ and he hung up before Altair could say goodbye.

Altair put the phone up and laid out on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It occurred to him he’d never showered after he and Kayle had had sex that morning. _Brilliant_. He got up and went and showered.

He ended up sitting on the floor of the tub, the water splashing over him a deep pang in his chest. He couldn’t help but wonder what Cain would say if he saw Altair now. What he’d do. What sort of wisdom he’d have for Altair.

“Don’t fuck it up,” the memory of Cain’s voice said in his ear, in modern English. He didn’t bother to question how he knew what Cain sounded like in modern English. “Don’t fuck up the savior.”

“I know,” Altair groaned and rubbed his face.

“And be a better father than his brother’s got,” Cain’s ghost voice said.

Well, he could do that at least. Wouldn’t be hard really. Andrew set the bar pretty low.

He sat there in the waterstream a bit longer, to see if any more of ‘Cain’s’ wisdom came to him. But of course it didn’t. It was just his common sense, sounding like Cain to hurt and help him at the same time. For not the first time he thought about finding the vault in Germany and finding a way to crack it open. But he didn’t. It was better if Cain stayed there. Better for everyone.

“Or just better for your make believe?” Cain’s ghost voice said.

“Shut up. You’re dead.”

“Except I can’t die. Except you know exactly what I’m going through. Right now and feel guilty for it. You should.”

“Shut up,” Altair said again, rubbing his head. Now was not the time. He had no remorse for a monster.

“Than what’s that make _you_?” Cain’s ghost voice asked.

“More than you,” he hissed and got to his feet. He turned off the water and shook off the cobwebs of Cain. He was dead. He had no time for Cain, he needed to focus on the now. And the now included the fact that he was going to have a kid. He could deal with this.

He dried off and put his clothes back on. Then laid on the bed, not moving or thinking. He laid there for several hours before getting up and took himself downstairs to check out. The people at the counter were a bit confused but let him pay for the cheap room and the expensive long distance phone call. Then he got back in the car and drove back to the Farm. 

He had dinner with Sandy Calloway, Jack was out, making one of his frequent trips to Montana. Altair glared at the door so hard it should have caught on fire when he heard two sets of feet come down the hall.

“You sure he’s asleep?” he heard Andrew ask.

“Lights off, he went up here a while ago. He’s asleep,” Sandy promised him, they weren’t bothering to keep their voices down.

Altair wanted to get up from where he was laying, rip the door open, and punch Andrew in the face. He thought the child Kayle was carrying was his _and_ he was still here wanting to bang Sandy Calloway. But it wasn’t just that. This was the man who made Kayle feel ashamed of herself. This disgusting man her father had practically disowned her because of. Hate curled in Altair’s stomach like an open flame. He’d not wanted to kill someone this badly in a long time. His damaged hand clenched the pillow. He didn’t move and the two went into the bedroom. Altair pretended to not hear the noises coming from the room across the hall.

— 

“Mommy,” Duncan said at breakfast one day.

“Yes, sweetie?” she asked.

“You look like you swallowed a boulder,” and that made Kayle laugh lightly.

“You know I didn’t silly,” she said fondly. “I’m having a baby,” she patted her stomach gently. Altair was sitting at the table with them. Kayle was pretty far along. In fact she was nearly due. The doctor said in the next week or so probably.

“Yeah but it looks like it,” Duncan said.

“Yeah it does,” Altair put in, “or a beach ball.”

Duncan instantly turned to him, “What’s a beach ball, Mel?” he asked. Andrew eyed his son sternly but Duncan wasn’t paying attention. No, course not. Altair had been ‘working’ on Duncan for months now. The kid was curious and starving for knowledge. So Altair gave it to him. Any question he asked Altair would answer, truthfully. It didn’t sit right with a lot of the people on the Farm, especially not Andrew.

“Its a multi colored plastic ball you inflate with air. You take it to a beach and play around with it. Kick it around, throw it. Its about this big,” and he made an approximation with his arms.

“Wow,” Duncan said. “I want one!”

Altair chuckled even as Andrew said, “I don’t think so Duncan.”

“Awww, but daddy.”

“Well there aren’t any beaches around the Farm, so how do you expect to have a beach ball without a beach?” Andrew asked.

Duncan actually thought about it. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

“No beach balls then,” Andrew said, amused.

“Alright,” Duncan said slowly.

The rest of breakfast passed without note. The Miles men left for their days. Andrew expected Altair to help Kayle around the house by now, he was too busy being important to actually stay home and help his heavily pregnant wife. Altair made Kayle go sit in the living room while he cleaned the dishes and tidied up.

“Doing good?” he asked Kayle once he was done.

“Yeah,” she smiled at him, “Come here,” he went over to her. She grabbed his hand and put it on her stomach. He stood there a moment when he felt something bump against the stretched skin of Kayle’s stomach. “Feel that?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Altair said, “I did. Your baby wants to come out.”

She smiled at him like she found him funny, “ _Our_ baby, Mel,” she said.

“Right,” he felt awkward sometimes admitting it was his. Technically it wasn’t. Andrew was their father and they’d be a Miles. Which was probably for the best since Altair had gone through so many last names at this point and he’d have felt bad if any kid he had had a last name as unimaginative as ibn-Umar. He usually liked to have more interesting names for his aliases. But this wasn’t supposed to be a long lived alias, it was supposed to be one that lasted a few months, a year maybe, and then he threw out and slipped into one of his more solid ones.

She put her hand on his, “You know you can call it yours right?”

“When no one’s around, yeah, sure,” Altair said.

“Its still yours.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “You decide a name yet?”

She smiled slyly, “I told you I wasn’t going to tell you till they were born, and that’s what I intend to do. So you’ll have to wait, just like everyone else,” well everyone except Andrew. She and Andrew had picked the name, like they’d picked Duncan’s name.

“Alright,” he said, humoring her with a smile. Then he leaned down and kissed her. “Just hurry up, I’m anxious,” and she laughed at him.

“Don’t you know better than to rush a lady?”

“And yet here I am,” he smirked. She just shoved his face away. He chuckled. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” she said.

“Okay. I’m going to go out there, hollar if you need me.”

“I will,” she said. He left her sitting comfortably with a book and went to find something to do. Maybe he’d go teach a class to the kids. They always liked his classes.

— 

He heard about it only in the after. He’d shown up at the Miles house and found it empty save for Duncan who was sitting in the living room looking confused. He hopped to his feet when he saw Altair, “Mel! Where are mommy and daddy?”

“I don’t know,” Altair said, putting his hand on Duncan’s head. “How about a snack while we wait for them? And we can do homework?” Duncan nodded. Altair made Duncan a PBJ, cutting off the crusts, and let him eat. He was about to find Duncan’s workbook to start his homework when there was an urgent knocking on the door. Altair didn’t even get a chance to get it, the door just opened.

“Duncan,” it was Andrew’s right hand man, Dan Simmons.

“What is it?” Altair asked.

“Oh… Melik, didn’t know you were here,” Dan said.

“I am. Where’s Kayle and Andrew?”

Dan blinked, “You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?”

“That’s what I’m here to get Duncan for.”

“What’s going on?” Altair asked pointedly.

“Kayle went into labor this morning. She just had the baby,” and Altair felt like he was made of lead. “Now where’s Duncan?”

“I’ll get him,” Atair said and turned around and went into the dining room. Duncan was happily munching on his sandwich. “Leave it,” he told Duncan, “we’re going.”

“What? Where?”

“Your mommy had her baby today, we’re going to go see them,” and he ushered Duncan off his seat, he grabbed the other half of his sandwich as he did. Altair took his hand and went back out to Dan. “Where is she?” he asked Dan.

“Just c’mon,” Dan said and started off, Altair closed the door and followed after, Duncan jogging next to him to keep up.

Dan took them to the doctor’s house. They wanted to bar Altair from going into the room but Altair just ignored them. He led Duncan into the room that smelled heavily of antiseptic and blood and sweat of childbirth. Kayle was on the bed, dozing, her dark hair lank around her shoulders, some strands sticking to her forehead from sweat. On the other side of the room Andrew was standing, holding a swaddling of blue blankets.

“Mommy!” Duncan cried and left Altair’s side, running over to Kayle’s bed and climbing onto it. Kayle woke and said something to Duncan but Altair didn’t hear.

He swallowed to wet his throat, “Congratulations,” he said, Andrew half turned to him and Altair could peek part of the baby’s face just a bit.

“Thank you,” Andrew said, “Kayle was a real trooper.”

“What’s their name?” Altair wanted to know and prayed Kayle hadn’t let Andrew name their child something stupid.

Andrew smiled a little, “We named him Desmond.”

Altair took a deep breath. Well, no two ways about that. Hawk had said that the one he was looking for was a warrior born, the meeting of two great wills. His scrying was always so unpredictable, but in this it was spot on. And Ezio had told him the name Minerva had said all those years ago, that she’d seemingly let slip, because none of them could get her to say the name since. “Strong name,” Altair said.

“We thought so,” Andrew said, amused.

“I’ll uh… leave you four alone then,” and made an awkward retreat. He went back to the Calloways and pretended he was okay with everything that had just happened. Pretended he was totally fine that Andrew was the first person holding _his_ new son, had been the one who’d gotten to name him. By the time the sun was rising even believed himself too.

— 

Andrew actually stayed home a few days, all his daily business having to come to the house if they wanted to see him. Altair avoided the house. He’d probably punch Andrew if he saw him now, or stab him. At least he hadn’t come to see Sandy those days. He stayed at home, playing the good husband.

It didn’t last though. After four days he went back to his old routine. Altair ventured back to the house after he knew breakfast was over, knowing Andrew would be gone. He eased the door open and walked in. He saw Kayle cleaning up, but not looking at him. He walked past her to the new addition they’d made to the house before winter had started.

The room had been painted yellow and a very muted red that wasn’t quite pink. There was a changing table, an old rocking chair, a swing, and several baby toys that were too advanced for the newborn. There was also the crib. Everything was handmade or hand me downs from other families, or even Duncan.

Altair floated over to the crib and looked down into it. The baby was bundled up in several blankets and had his eyes closed. Altair leaned down on the crib railing, looking down at him. “Hi Des,” he said softly and then reached down to gently stroke his head. “Been waiting a long time to meet you you know.” The baby just continued to sleep. Altair didn’t move and just watched him and for the first time in a long time he felt like he was doing something right, like everything he was doing was exactly what he was supposed to be doing.

Altair didn’t know how long he stood there, but it was a while. Then Desmond woke up and started to fuss, his face becoming a few shades redder than before. He gave a few loud, annoyed, noises and Altair scooped him up out of the crib. He checked if the baby was wet and finding he wasn’t Altair just held him and realized it was the first time he’d done so.

“Alright Dessy, what’s all the fussing abou- Oh! Mel,” Kayle said as she came into the bedroom.

“Hey,” Altair said, looking at her.

“Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“I thought you’d appreciate me not murdering your husband,” he said blandly, looking back down at Desmond who was still being all fussy and trying to wriggle about.

“Yes,” she said, and came over to him. “He’s hungry,” and Altair let her take Desmond away from him. She sat in the rocking chair and hiked up her shirt. Altair was looking at them without really looking at Kayle. “Where you been though, really?”

“I told you,” Altair said. He crouched off center in front of her.

“You look like you’ve never seen a baby before,” Kayle told Altair.

“I’ve never had one before,” he said. Then he looked up at her, “Andrew doesn’t deserve you.”

“Well that’s obvious.”

He rubbed his face with both hands. What was he supposed to do? Raise the kid he supposed. But with Andrew around? Undermining everything he said? Duncan wasn’t nearly as adventurous as he could be, and he knew it was because of Andrew. He was afraid of failure and didn’t want to look stupid in his father’s eyes. Too bad Andrew had no kind words for his son except very rarely.

At the very least Altair knew what _not_ to do when raising children. And it was literally everything the Assassins had become the past few decades. Silence, secrecy, paranoia, stifling of anyone different. He’d grown up in that environment and knew how it twisted people. It was no way to raise children. He’d tried to change the Order back then, make them more open and loving. It had been that way during Ezio and Hawk’s time, but as the war moved forward and they’d lost so many numbers and they’d had to keep themselves more secretly the old ways had come back.

But he couldn’t just leave. Well rather, not like he could just kidnap his own son. Or, he could, but he wouldn’t. Assassins had done that before. Never worked out well for them. Usually ended in a witch hunt, and their death. 

For a crazy moment he thought about telling Kayle the truth. But he wouldn’t, she wouldn’t understand, and probably wouldn’t want to. Most people reacted to his immortality the same way. Thought he was crazy. In the past they’d tried to have him exorcised when he’d come back from the dead once. No one really understood, except the other immortals. The few mortals that did understand and didn’t just laugh it off soon became obsessed with learning how Altair had become immortal and becoming so themselves.

Maybe not the full truth then. But a partial truth? Like his real name, or why he was here. Except that’d make it look like he’d been using her. She’d never understand. She’d never forgive him for lying to her either. Better if she didn’t know. Just keep the lie going. One person could keep a secret, but two? Not for long.

“What are you _really_ afraid of?” Cain’s ghost voice asked, “It isn’t that. The opinions of mortals mean nothing.” Altair tried to just ignore that part of his mind that sounded like Cain. “You’re afraid you’ll tell her and she’ll still love you,” Altair felt himself pale a little. “Never change, do you Abel? Just take the love, for once.”

“You alright, Mel?” Kayle asked.

The worst part about Cain was that, even when he wasn’t actually around and was just the voice of his stupid conscious, was he was _always_ right. Altair rocked back and sat, “I need to tell you something Kayle,” he said.

“What?” she asked.

Altair huffed a little sigh and steeled himself. “My name isn’t Melik ibn-Umar,” he said, “and I’m not an Assassin,” well only a half lie on that one. He’d been born into it but he hadn’t considered himself an Assassin in centuries.

Kayle stopped rocking in the chair and very calmly took Desmond off the tit. He knew the look in her eyes. She’d bolt if she thought she was in real danger. He was incredibly vulnerable too as he was and knew if she wanted she could easily kick him right in the crotch, or stand up and stomp on him. “Then who are you?” she asked, “What are you?”

“I’m a friend,” he said, “always have been. I’m not your enemy, and I mean you and your family any harm. Well, except Andy, but he’s a prick and deserves it,” she said nothing. “My real name is Altair.”

“What are you doing here then if you aren’t an Assassin. How did you even _find_ us?”

He cocked his head to the side, “Its not too hard to find when you know what to look for,” he said.

“Are you with Abstergo?”

“No,” he said. “I lied about a lot of stuff, but that isn’t one of them. Unlike Henry, he’s with Abstergo.”

“What?” she squeaked.

“You ever see him without shoes? Even when he’s home? Or when he’s taken the kids down to the river for a swim. He’s got the maltese cross branded on the bottom of his foot. Not just Abstergo; _Templar_.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know a Templar when I see one.”

“You said you aren’t an Assassin, but you know about us, and Abstergo.”

“I was born into this,” Altair said. “But I got out,” now here was where he needed to be careful. “The Assassins are diseased, and rotting from the inside out. I know you know that.” He knew about the type of ‘conditioning’ Andrew would have had to go through to become part of the Assassins, and then the training. Kayle did too.

“Yes,” she said. “Then why are you here?”

This was the lie, more lies, because she couldn’t bear the truth. Or it could be a partial lie. “What I do is seek out peoples with great ability,” that wasn’t too much of a lie, “and elevate them. I came to the Farm on someone’s direction to find one of them.”

“Did you find them?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Your son,” there was the lie, but only a little. Duncan had greatness ready for his shoulders, but he needed to be shaped. “Duncan,” and now his own son. He’d save that though.

“And what do you plan on doing with my son?”

“Nothing,” Altair said, “nothing I haven’t already been doing at least. He acts more like a boy from the outside than one who the Assassins want, which is great for me. Assassins are usually always so stubborn, so secretive.”

She looked at him, looked down at Desmond, looked back at him, “This planned?”

Altair laughed a little, “No,” he said. “No it wasn’t. It was an accident, but I don’t mind.”

“How much is Melik like Altair?”

“Mel’s nicer,” Altair said, “he wouldn’t kill your husband. Altair would. Altair’s also a cocky asshole who thinks he knows everything and has everything under control-

“But doesn’t if he did this?” and she motioned to Desmond.

“Yeah,” Altair said, grinning lazily.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Altair rocked up to his feet and leaned over her, bracing himself on the arms of the chair. “So you know I’m real,” he said softly, “and if you want Andrew gone so badly, I can just make him disappear. If you want it, I can do things I humble guy like Melik could never do.”

“Like what?” she challenged.

He smirked, “Basically anything.”

“...I think I like Altair actually,” she said. “Mel’s nice though, if he has to be around more.”

“You’re taking this well.”

“I sort of didn’t believe you were the mild mannered guy you pretended to be when I’ve seen you train,” she said. “No one so nice is _that_ ruthless. At least it isn’t just you having repressed urges or whatever. Your veneer also slips sometimes. I don’t think anyone else has really noticed. You’re good at this whole ‘pretending to be someone else’ thing.”

“I do my best,” he said.

“And you said Altair would kill my husband?”

“He could,” he said blithely, they were very close now.

“I’ll keep that in mind then,” she said nicely and Altair repressed grin a grin. His brows went up when she kissed him. Okay, that was cool. Crisis averted, and she was taking it well. So long as things didn’t go _too_ sideways. “So now what?”

“Nothing’s really changed. You just know the truth now.”

“Hmm, I guess so,” she said and went back to feeding Desmond.

— 

Seven years passed. Desmond remained the only ‘surprise’ Altair faced in his and Kayle’s affair. They were more careful after that too.

The Farm existed in a weird out of space place, outside of normal society at the end of an unkept dirt road that came from nowhere and led to nowhere. Altair knew things were happening around the Farm, society advancing. Sometimes he called Ezio or Hawk, kept in touch of things since the Farm had no real new of the outside world. Hawk always had a list of things about what was going on, history Altair had missed.

The only change that happened at the Farm was when Henry, the Templar, had an accident. He fell off a roof while making repairs to the Smiths’ house. Or that was what everyone thought. Altair had pushed him. No one had seen him and it made him feel better knowing he wasn’t endangering the people here any more.

Duncan had started his growth spurt and shot up like a weed. He looked like his father even though his mind belonged to Altair. He encouraged the asking of questions, the pursuit of knowledge, the curious mind to ask why they did what they did. None of the adults liked it. Andrew _especially_ didn’t like it. He undermined Altair every chance he got and fed Duncan the lies and paranoia with the rest of the Farm. Or tried to. By the time Duncan was fifteen he was suspicious of everyone, but most of all his father and instructors. Altair’s quiet lessons on subjects the adults would never tell him had taken hold in his mind and not even Andrew’s stern, angry, talks or punishments could uproot them.

He was still a gentle boy. Didn’t like to fight, refused to participate in the lessons where the kids were taught about death, and often were made to kill animals. Not like hunting, but given birds or cats and told to murder it. Duncan refused, even when he was punished. He had a will as hard as steel and was the most stubborn person Altair had ever met in his life. All good qualities for a boy wanting to get away from his birthright.

As for Desmond. Altair had worried, not that he’d ever admit it later, for years about if he did the right thing or not. He’d started walking early, started talking early, and _god_ he had a motor mouth. Altair just despaired about the fact that he seemed short for his age. Altair was very short for a man in this era, only about five eight, about the same height as Kayle. Hopefully he wouldn’t be short since apparently all of Kayle’s brothers and father were tall.

When Desmond started talking Altair immediately made him bilingual, even teaching Duncan. Andrew hadn’t liked it. Kayle had just told him to be quiet, it was better their children got an enriched education by being able to speak a second language. Altair contemplated a third but figured it could wait since Andrew looked like he was going to hit the ceiling the first time Desmond had called him ‘baba’.

Desmond wasn’t like his brother either, and it became more obvious as he got older. For starters he didn’t look like Duncan. He had Altair’s dark brown hair and hazel eyes that Kayle and Andrew didn’t have but came from Altair, and even as a little boy Altair saw he had Altair’s jaw and long fingered hands. It’d become more obvious as he grew older that the boys didn’t have the same father. It worried him. 

Kayle didn’t care, she loved her boys equally and also didn’t care what other people thought. She’d even told im smugly once that Sandy had come to her in tears because she was pregnant and didn’t want it. At least Kayle hadn’t been cruel. They’d dealt with it quietly. 

There were other things about Desmond that were strikingly different from the rest of his family. Altair found out one day while they were reading a story. Desmond had looked up at him and gone, “Mel-Mel, you look funny,” and Altair had looked down at him and seen his own golden eyes looking back at him. Most of his other, real, children hadn’t shared the ability. It was extremely recessive. The next day, after breakfast, when they’d been alone Altair had asked Kayle about it. She’d frozen up a moment and he knew. He’d just grinned and showed her he could do it, she could do it too. Only person in her family who could.

Desmond also wasn’t gentle. He yelled when he was angry, was prone to tantrums, and often hit things to act out. He knew what he liked and didn’t like being told what to do. He was wild and rebellious and drove Andrew up a wall. Desmond’s _favorite_ word was ‘no’, and he used it often and liberally. Like his brother he was also incredibly stubborn and unless he wanted to do something, he wouldn’t be doing it. Altair had brought it up to Kayle and she’d just laughed and said, “So you mean he’s just like you? Who would have thought?” He’d sulked a bit after that. Desmond did that too, sulked and pouted. Altair did know if it was his natural inclination or from mimicking Altair.

Once he was old enough to go out with the other kids Desmond literally had a million questions. Why it was like and why things were like that. Why did they have to go home, why wasn’t he allowed to climb the trees why couldn’t he go swimming in the river with the other kids. Altair learned to love the phrase; “Because I/your omy said so.” Which was usually enough to satisfy him, even if he didn’t like it. Saying because Andrew said so was sort of like their code for Desmond to do it anyway because Altair was okay with it.

Altair found he enjoyed doing this honestly. He liked raising Desmond, and Duncan too. Not like Andrew was doing it. Here they could both be safe until the right time. Altair knew one day he’d have to take Desmond away, because he didn’t belong to the Assassins. Well he did, but he didn’t. He belonged to the World, and had great things in his future. Altair would make sure he was prepared for them.

— 

It was the summer of his eighth year at the Farm. He and Kayle were working on decrypting Assassin intel that had been sent via code from a cell in D.C. The kids were both out, Andrew wasn’t in sight, the fans were blowing air across the room. They only turned on the air when it got unbearably warm.

The screen door slammed open. “Omy!” Desmond cried and raced inside. “Omy omy omy!” and he ran over to Kayle, grabbing her shirt and starting to pull her.

“What? Desmond what is it?” she asked even as she got out of her chair.

“Big D got hurt. He-he- he- he got hurt real bad,” and then Desmond’s throat clenched and he started to cry.

“What? What happened,” she knelt in front of him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Baby c’mon, tell me what happened?”

“D was doing Forms like he was supposed to. T-then Mr. Dan said they were gonna fight, and to not h-hold back. D s-said he didn’t want to fight. So J-Jack h-h-hurt him,” he sobbed.

“He what?” Kayle asked and looked from Desmond to Altair in shock.

Altair was out of his chair and out the door, not needing to hear any more. He walked across the compound to where the kids were doing Forms, their fighting training. He saw Dan Simmons kneeling over someone, holding their face. Altair felt ill when he saw that the ground was dark between the kids surrounding him’s feet. He quickened his gait and got to the Forms sessions quickly. Dan was hovered over Duncan who looked like a piece of tenderized meat, holding his face and trying to get Duncan to respond to him. Duncan was bleeding from the mouth and the left side of his face, his arm bend the entire wrong way it should have been.

“The fuck is going on here?” Altair barked, startling the kids around and they shrunk away when Altair walked through them. Dan looked up at Altair and looked totally overwhelmed and in shock, not knowing what to do. “Did you call for the doctor?” Altair demanded. Dan opened his mouth a few times, no noise came out. What a useless lackey.

Altair knelt and checked Duncan’s pulse, it was there, but not as strong as it should have been. He shot Dan a withering look and then picked Duncan up. That woke the teen and he _screamed_ like he’d just been dipped in hot oil and made Altair’s ears ring. He ignored it and started towards the doctor’s house.

“Doc!” he thundered, kicking open the screen door.

“What? What’s going on?” Maverick, yeah his name was Maverick, his parents must have hated him, said as he came to the foyer. “Oh my,” he said when he saw Duncan who had knocked himself out from the pain but was crying even unconscious. “Bring him, quickly,” Maverick beckoned and Altair went with him to the back. He had Altair place him on the operating table. “Go find Betty, I need her,” Maverick instructed. Altair nodded and left as Maverick set about cutting Duncan’s shirt off so he could set the arm which was flopped over the side of the operating table limpy, a third bend in the arm that shouldn’t be there.

The Forms class and Dan were hovering outside the doctor’s door. “What?” he demanded.

“He’s alive?” Dan asked.

“Yes,” and then Altair grabbed him by the collar, “and you wouldn’t have to ask if you hadn’t let it get out of hand,” he growled into Dan’s face and shook him. Then he let the man go, throwing him away, disgusted, and went to find Betty, the other doctor and Maverick’s wife. When he found her she sprinted home. By that time everyone had heard about what had happened and Altair could hear Andrew yelling at Dan so loud people in Hill City could have heard. Andrew was _livid_ and Altair didn’t blame him.

He found Kayle sitting on the porch with Desmond, who was still sniffling, trying to calm him down some. “What happened?” Kayle asked.

Altair looked at Desmond, then at Kayle. “I’m not really sure,” he admitted.

“Has to be bad for Andy to yell. He’s usually not so explosive.”

“The kid broke his arm, might have broken a rib or two, and… I don’t know. Something with his face, it was bleeding a lot,” Kayle blanched and put her hand up to her mouth, tears leaping to the corners. “He’s with the doctors now. He’ll be fine,” he said soothingly and sat next to her.

“You think so?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said and took her hand. “He’s too stubborn to let this get him down. You know that,” she nodded. “C’mon, it’ll be okay,” he said gently and wiped Kayle’s tears away.

“I hope so. I hope he’s okay,” she said, voice trembling.

Duncan wasn’t okay. He had a seriously broken arm, two broken ribs, and his eye had been so damaged he’d never regain sight in it. When Kayle had found out her fury had been added to Andrew’s and he’d never seen men want the world to swallow them whole as much as Dan, Jack, and Jack’s father Logan when Kayle screamed at them. She was worse than Andrew too. She didn’t accept their apologies, or their condolences. She laid the blame squarely on their shoulders. Duncan wasn’t dead, but now he was crippled because of Jack, because Logan encouraged him to be as brutal in a fight as possible and not accept defeat or submission, and because Dan had let the fight go on too long even when Jack was basically just beating Duncan senseless.

For the next week no one really did anything. Whenever Kayle was out people slunk away, didn’t make eye contact. He wondered why Kayle let Andrew lead the Farm when people respected her rage more than Andrew’s. For the month while Duncan recovered Altair heard more than one person go, “No we shouldn’t do that. Kayle could get mad.” Or “But what if Kayle saw?” And honestly Altair didn’t mind too much. Anger made sex _awesome_ and now he knew Desmond didn’t get his temper just from him. Kayle had a vindictive streak a mile wide and Altair was more than happy for her to take it out on him in the bedroom.

A few days after Maverick finally removed Duncan’s cast Kayle showed up at the Calloway’s before dinner. “Kayle, what can I do for you?” Jack asked, having gotten the door.

“Is Mel here?” she asked.

“I’m here,” Altair called from the living room. He and Jack had been playing chess. After eight years Jack _insisted_ he could beat Altair at chess. He’d yet to do so once. At some point he’d thought about throwing a game just to give Jack a bone but Jack had seen him doing so and told him in no uncertain words he didn’t want Altair to go easy on him to make him feel better. So Jack had yet to beat him.

Kayle poked her head in, “Can I talk to you?” she asked. “I wanted to ask you about a friend of yours,” and Altair was on edge. He didn’t have any friends outside of those who lived on the Farm. At least that was what he told her.

“Which friend?” he asked carefully.

“I think his name was Altair?” and she gave him a look.

“Oh, right, that idiot. Sure. Be right back Jack,” and he got up.

“No rush, Sandy isn’t home for dinner yet.”

“Right,” and Altair followed Kayle out of the house back to her home. They went around the back, out of sight of the other houses. “What’s the-” Kayle silenced him with a firm, warm, kiss. “Uh?” he asked dumbly.

“Remember you told me Altair would kill my husband?” she asked darkly, holding onto his collar.

“Yes?”

“Well I want him to do that now,” she said.

“What? What happened?”

“He’s in there right now,” she said, short of seething. “He’s in there with _Sandy_ , on our bed.”

“Yeah but-

“On _our_ bed,” she said and Altair understood. She didn’t care that Andrew was fucking Sandy. She cared that he was doing it in her home, on the bed she and Altair shared. He was _defiling_ it.

“I don’t… I can’t.”

“You told me Altair could kill my husband since Melik wouldn’t,” she said fiercely.

“I mean, I can, but not right now. It isn’t the right time. I’d have to kill the both of them, and then where would that leave us? They’d think it was you, they’d take your children away. Is that what you want?”

“No,” she admitted.

“I know you’re angry,” he said, holding her arms. “But I need a plan. I can’t just go in there and kill him. If I do I have to leave, and then I’d leave you and the boys. That what you want?”

“No,” she said softly and deflated.

He hugged her, “You have every right to be angry,” he told her. “And I’ll kill him for you. But not right now. I need to make a plan, figure out how I’ll do it. Then I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he said. “Where are the boys?”

“I left them at the doctor’s, he was going to help Duncan with his physical therapy. I came home to start dinner. I _heard_ them.”

“It’ll be okay,” he promised. “And we’re going to talk tomorrow, work it out,” he said. She nodded. “I’ll go scare them in the mean time,” he said with a mean smile and Kayle smiled too. “Call my name on the third time,” and then he let her go and went back around to the front. He opened and closed the screen door loudly. “Kaey?” he called. The slight noise coming from the master bedroom stopped abruptly. “Kayle you home?” he called again and started walking around the house. He walked towards the master bedroom, “Kayle you in there?” he called right outside the door.

“Mel!” he heard Kayle call from outside. Altair turned and walked away, opening and closing the screen door loudly again and walked out into the darkening night. He went back around to the back and Kayle threw herself at him, laughing and kissed him. “That was so mean,” she said, smiling.

“Altair’s not a nice man,” Altair smirked. They stayed at the side of the house, leaning against it, and waited. A minute or so later the back door opened and closed and Sandy left. “Don’t do anything, just go and start dinner. I’ll go get the boys,” he said. She nodded and they parted. Altair went to get Duncan and Desmond, but waited until Maverick was done helping Duncan gain full motion of his arm. It would take time still, but Duncan would get his arm back. He just dropped them back off at the house and went back home. He had dinner with the Calloways and said nothing about what had happened earlier, and of course Sandy said nothing.

The next morning Altair showed up for breakfast. Kayle looked livid and Andrew wasn’t even there. “Where’s Andy?” he asked.

“He left early. Said he had work,” she said, setting down breakfast for her sons and Altair.

“Huh,” he said and they ate, the boys went off to class. Duncan still had to go, the only lessons he was exempt from were physical ones, like Forms. “So what happened?” he asked once the kitchen was clean and they sat at the table together.

“He acted like nothing happened. He was changing the sheets when I came back in though.”

“So not entirely useless.”

“Just mostly useless,” she said.

“Hmm,” he didn’t disagree. “Kayle,” he said, “do you want to stay here?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I kill Andrew it won’t be like when Henry died. They’ll want to know who did it, everyone will be questioned. If I kill him, I’ll have to leave.”

“No you won’t,” she said.

He frowned, “I don’t _want_ to stay either,” the hurt was clear on her face. “Do you really want to raise your children here? Duncan nearly _died_ , and would have if Desmond hadn’t gotten us. Your husband will figure it out eventually that Desmond isn’t his. I know you think its fine, but Desmond looks like me, and he does more every year. You won’t be able to pretend Desmond’s Andrew’s forever.”

She slouched a bit, “I know he does,” she said softly. “But what are you suggesting?”

Altair leaned forward on the table, “I am suggesting, we leave,” he said.

“Just… leave?” he nodded, “But-

“What’s here for you?” he asked. “Your family doesn’t want you. Your friend is cheating on your husband. The Assassins aren’t kind to boys like Duncan. Either he’ll break and remake himself into something enough to withstand them, which trust me won’t be something you want to see, or he’ll die. By his own hand or someone else’s; he will die, and will do so young. Desmond might fare better, but he’ll never be happy here. You have to realize that, _they’re_ not happy here.”

“But where would we go?”

Altair drummed his fingers on the table, “I have ways,” he said, “and means. If you give me time I can just make us disappear. Not even the Assassins would find us.”

“Right,” she said sarcastically. “You can hide from Abstergo, but you can’t hide from Assassins. If they wanted they’d dig you out of any hole you’d entrenched yourself into.”

“Not me, not my friends. We wrote the book on hiding in plain sight.”

“How though? Do you even have the means?”

He smiled a little, “Little fact you don’t know about me: I’m rich. Like to the _absurdity_ I’m rich.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to. Its still true. Money makes things work, I have plenty of it. I want to disappear? I can be across the globe within a day in one of my private jets, going to one of my private homes where no one will find me.”

She blinked at him, “Who are you?”

“I’ve told you. I’m Altair. Now, do you want me to kill your husband?”

“Yes.”

“I’d never call you a damsel, but do you want me to take you out of here? I can take you anywhere you want to go. Any country you’ve ever wanted to visit, any city you’ve longed to see, any food you didn’t know you wanted to try.” He offered up his hands to her, face up on the table. “Or do you want to stay here? Because I can’t stay here. They’ll eventually look at you as the suspect. Some members know you and Andrew don’t get along. At some point the fingers will point at you. But if I leave the blame is squarely on me, because only guilty men run.”

She sat there in thought and Altair let her have her silence. He waited, she was thinking it over seriously. “Anywhere I want to go?” she asked him.

“Anywhere,” he said. “When you’re with me the world is your oyster.”

“And will we be? With you I mean?”

He smirked, “Like I could get rid of you if I wanted.”

“Then I want that,” she said. “Do whatever it is you need to do.”

“Okay,” Altair said, he’d been planning what to do for years when he could finally just murder Andrew. “Jack is leaving for Montana in three days, meaning Andrew will be there in three days. Pack a bag, have the boys pack a bag, keep it out of sight of everyone. Don’t bring anything that isn’t important. Don’t worry about clothes unless you’re particularly attached, we’ll get new ones. Just bring what you can’t part with,” she nodded, she knew what he was talking about. “I’ll get things together by then.”

“Are you going to kill Sandy too?” she asked.

“Do you want me to?”

She frowned, “No,” she said.

“Then I won’t,” and he shuffled his plan around a bit. He wouldn’t kill Sandy, but she wouldn’t get off scott free. “When the time comes, just do as I say. Got it?” she nodded. “Okay, three days Kayle. You can hold out for three days?” she nodded. “Okay, I might not be around a lot the next three days. I have people to call and stuff to do to make sure everything is in place.”

“I’ve done this for fifteen years, Altair, I can do it for three days,” but she sounded so sad and broken.

“Alright, well,” he got up. “I better get started then,” she followed him to the door. Apparently she didn’t care if anyone saw, because she kissed him. “I’ll see you soon,” he promised, and then left and went to the carpool to get a car so he could get somewhere with an actual phone.

— 

By the third day everything was in place. Altair had had copies of car keys he wanted made, a second car was waiting for them at Hill City. He had four first class plane tickets out of Rapid City to take them to New York City. From there Kayle could decide where they would go. He thought, with amusement, he might just tell her to point at the map, just so she’d get the idea. He’d called Ezio, and Hawk, and told them the situation. They’d both sworn at him a bit before getting over it. They were ready to help him if needed, but they knew it wouldn’t be necessary.

Jack was on his way to Montana, Andrew had been ‘called away’ for work. Kayle acted like nothing was different that night, but Duncan seemed extra wired. He knew something was going to happen, but not what. They put the boys to bed and instead of going to the Calloways Altair stayed at the Miles house. He sat on the bed, the lights down except for a small bedside lamp. Kayle was with him, sitting behind him, her hand running up and down his back. Altair had his hidden hidden blade strapped to his left hand. It was an archaic design and slid elegantly the missing digit of his left hand. He hadn’t used it in years, since he’d come here. Melik worked the back, he had no use for a hunter’s weapon. But Altair did, though he was less of the hunter himself and more of the hunter’s weapon. He’d missed his knife. It made him feel whole, and complete.

They waited in silence in the dark when they heard the front door open and close. Kayle got up, turned off the light, bathing the room into nearly total darkness. Altair went into the Eagle Vision and it was like taking a breath of fresh air. He wasn’t the hunter. He was the weapon. This time his hunter was Kayle, and she was ready to put her knife into Andrew’s throat.

Andrew came in, didn’t turn on the light and walked blindly to the bathroom where he showered. Altair waited like a coiled spring for the right moment to strike, his vision cutting through the darkness that wasn’t complete. He could feel Kayle off the side of the bed, silent. The shower ran and turned off. Andrew moved around in the bathroom and Altair waited. Andrew climbed into bed without noticing Altair and rolled onto his side, reaching across the bed for his wife that wasn’t there.

“Kay?” he asked, and then sat up a bit.

That was when Altair sprung and slammed him back into the mattress, his hand on Andrew’s mouth.

“Hello, Andy,” Altair said with all the homicidal mirth he had and didn’t have to fake. “Fancy seeing you here this time of night.” Andrew thrashed, grabbed at Altair, Altair jammed his knife against Andrew’s throat, he went still. “You’ve been a very bad boy, you know that Andy?” Altair asked him, Andrew’s eyes were wide and afraid. Altair drank it in.

“Who’s the monster now?” Cain’s ghost voice asked.

“I am,” he whispered, “And so are you,” he told Andrew. “Don’t worry Andy, I’m not cruel, I won’t make you suffer. But you should know why sent me to kill you at the very least, and I’m sure you’ll know why,” he looked at Kayle. She turned on the bedside lamp. Altair took his hand off Andrew’s mouth, but his knife against Andrew’s throat, so firm it nearly drew blood.

“Kayle?” Andrew asked. “Why?”

“You know why,” she said without feeling. “I know about Sandy,” he went pale. “And that is just the start of the list of betrayals while we’ve been married. I’ll spare you the rest. I should have listened to my father those years ago. You’re bad Andrew. And for me, and your son, your a poison. I found an antivenom.”

“What? But but-” then his mind grasped onto one thing, “we have two sons,” he said.

“No you don’t,” Kayle said, “Altair, just do it, I’m tired of breathing the same air as him.”

Altair leered at Andrew, “By the way,” he said with a mad grin, “Desmond’s my son,” and he followed through with his knife on Andrew’s neck. Andrew’s eyes were shock, disbelief, and betrayal. Altair twisted his wrist, blood poured out of the wound and he took his blade out. Andrew just stared at him and the light left his eyes. Altair felt for a pulse, he felt none, he checked a second place, just to be sure, still none.

“Its done,” Altair said. Kayle sighed in relief, like a great had been lifted from her shoulders. “Get the boys, take them out the back door, I’m going to wash this blood off.” She nodded and left. Before going to the bedroom Altair used his finger to smear Andrew’s own blood across his entire face to form the letter A. Scarlet letter. He thought it was fitting.

He washed his arm down and changed his shirt, leaving them all as bloody rags on the floor. They’d know who did it. But what could they do? What could some _mortals_ do to him? The answer was obvious.

Nothing.

He went out the back door. Kayle was holding Desmond, who was still asleep. Duncan looked nervous, but awake. “What’s going on?” he asked Altair.

“D,” he said, “this is the one time I’ll ever tell you to stop asking questions. Just for a little bit. Okay?” Duncan nodded slowly. “Good, c’mon.”

Altair picked up two of the bags and they walked to the carpool. He put the bags in the trunk of the car he wanted and told them to get in. Duncan took the back seat with Desmond. Altair drove. No one spoke. At Hill City he pulled over to the side of the road and got out behind another car, they transferred to the next car and continued the drive up to Rapid City. There Altair stopped at a motel, went in, and came out with a duffle bag.

“What’s that?” Kayle asked.

“Stuff for you,” and Altair opened it and passed her a drivers license and a passport. He handed Duncan a learner’s permit and his own passport as well as a wallet. “And I have one for Desmond too.”

“What the- How did you get these?” she asked.

“Money makes things happen,” Altair said and then continued driving to the airport. He parked at long term parking and they caught a shuttle to the airport. It was empty. Duncan looked like his eye was about to fall out of his head, as he tried to look at _everything_. He’d been pressed up against the window as they drove through Rapid City as it was. Altair checked them in. “Duncan,” he barked, startling the kid, “come show the lady your ID,” he said. Duncan did so shyly and snatched it back when Altair gave it back to him.

Once they got to their gate Duncan turned to Altair and his mom, “What’s going on? I’ve been quiet and good up till now. But… what are we doing? Where are we? What is this place? Where are we going-

“One question at a time, kid,” Altair said and sat Duncan down. “This is an airport, its where you take rides on planes to other places. Specifically this is the airport in Rapid City, South Dakota. Your mother decided to take you out of a dangerous and toxic environment you were being raised in. So now we’re here. As for where we’re going, for now we’re going to New York City. Your mother will decide from there where we’re going.”

“Where’s dad?” Duncan asked.

Altair looked at Kayle. “Andrew’s dead.”

“What?” Duncan squeaked. “But- but-

“Honey,” Kayle sat next to him. “I know this is a lot to take in, and is pretty scary. But its all going to be okay. Altair is going to take care of us.”

“Altair?” he looked at Altair, “I thought your name was Melik?”

“On the list of things you’re going to have to unlearn kid,” he said, but not unkindly. “You can keep calling me Mel though, if that makes you comfortable.”

“I don’t- I’m confused,” Duncan said.

“I know,” Kayle said. “But know this is better sweetie,” she said gently.

“What’s going to happen?” Duncan asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Altair said. “All you need to know is that your life before is over. The life ahead of you will be _better_. No more Forms, no more lies, no more secrets, Duncan. Quite literally the answer to any question you have is out here,” he motioned to the space around them. “And you don’t have to be afraid now.” Duncan was starting to have a panic attack, “Kayle, can you deal with him while I get him some water?” she nodded and he went to find something. One of the little kiosk stores was still open, or maybe it had just opened, he wasn’t sure which. Either way he bought some water and a couple versions of pain meds including some sleep aids and motion sickness prevention pills. When he got back to the Miles’ Kayle had Duncan put his head between his knees and focusing on his breathing. She looked up when he approached.

He gave her the things, “Thanks,” she said and coaxed Duncan to drink the water and take some of the medication. “When’s our flight?”

Altair looked at the clock at the gate, “Twenty minutes,” he said.

“Mel-Mel,” Desmond said, he’d been sitting next to Kayle quietly the entire time, looking at everything in amazement.

Altair sat next to him, “Yeah buddy?”

“Where’s daddy?”

“He’s not here anymore.”

“Oh. Is he coming with us?”

“No.”

“So then he isn’t going to be around any more?”

“That’s right,” Altair said.

Desmond was quiet for several minutes, deep in thought, then said with absolute seriousness, “Does that mean you’re my daddy now?”

Altair smiled at him, “Yeah, it does I guess.”

“Okay. I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Alright, c’mon,” and he took Desmond to go while Kayle was still dealing with Duncan.

When they were done their flight was calling to be boarded. Altair guided them all through the process, Kayle had never been on a plane either. Then they were on, they stowed their bags and picked whatever seats they wanted. Kayle sat with Duncan to help keep him calm since he was still freaking out. She ended up feeding him two sleeping pills and he fell asleep before they even took off. Altair and Desmond were in the seats across the aisle, Desmond taking the window seat, his face pressed against the glass. 

He cried out in joy and wonder when they lifted off. Once he was bored looking at the clouds he climbed over Altair to bother his mother, eventually getting into her lap. Altair motioned to her and she got up and sat on the aisle seat next to Altair, still holding Desmond.

“Where are we going?” she asked him.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully.

“Well we’ll just pick somewhere on the map and go there first then,” Altair said fondly.

“Really?”

“Really,” he said. “Its late, try and get some rest, you haven’t slept all night, and the flight will be a while.”

“Yeah,” she said and took out the sleep aids she’d given Duncan. She gave Desmond half of one and took the other half. They were both asleep in moments. Altair lifted  the center armrest and pulled Kayle over to him. She snuggled against him and Altair leaned against her head, dozing.

He woke when they landed. Desmond was already awake and in the other set of seats with Duncan, they were both trying to see out of the view port. Kayle woke as they taxied. “Where are we?” she asked sleepily.

“New York,” Altair said. They got off the plane and Altair brought them to a map that showed all the places you could go from this one airport. “So, Kayle, where do you wanna go?” he asked her.

“Oh my,” she said while her two sons rubbernecked, looking around at as much as they possibly could. There were a lot more people about now since it was late morning. Neither of them had ever seen so many people in their lives. “Any of these places?” he nodded. “Mmmm, there,” and she pointed to Spain, “I want to go there.”

“Then we’ll go,” he said. “Boys, eyes up, we’re going.”

“Going where?” Duncan asked.

He took Desmond’s hand leading them away from the map to find somewhere he could buy tickets and said, “Spain, and the rest of your lives.”

 


	6. Requium for Blue Jeans

In the unending darkness time was meaningless. Time blurred together into searing blackness that had seeped into his pores, crawled down his throat and filled him with void. There was a sickening silence like a tomb around him but Cain couldn’t die. He was forever and then some. Cain was also dead. As dead as someone like him could be. Locked away from time, stuck and forced into his own personal hell for time unending.

And for what?

The temper tantrum of a child.

He was too tired to fan the embers of that anger anymore. He couldn’t even feel the warmth of that old rage that had kept him alive, furious, and warm for the first few years. Now it was dull and dead in his chest. The coals of that fury were dying, but he knew if you cracked them open there would be a warm spark at the center.

Cain didn’t have the energy to add fuel to that hatred anymore. It was still there, waiting for when it could crack to life again, but for now, it was cold and empty.

He hallucinated constantly. In the silence and darkness his mind could still kick on before he went Under again. He’d lived a long life and had relived most of it through his hallucinations. Things he’d thought he’d forgotten. The names and faces of his ancient wives, children, and friends. The sound of his father’s voice, though he’d never forgotten Pipek’s face. All his life laid out for him but washed in odd desaturated colors worse than his normal vision. Half there colors that he grasped at trying to remember but couldn’t. He didn’t remember colors. He couldn’t recall the color of the sky, or the shade of green of his first wife’s eyes, or the color of a pomegranate, his favorite.

He also hallucinated things that weren’t. Sometimes he dreamed of being freed, of someone, somewhere, finding him. Even other times it was his Abel, returning for him with an apocalyptic reason for why he’d just _left_ Cain in here.

For a moment the embers of anger flared and when he breathed his breath was fire. Thinking of Abel always made him furious and homicidal. If he did ever see Abel again he’d murder them. Maybe even a few times.

Like always the anger faded quickly. He didn’t have the energy for rage for more than a few seconds.

He slept.

When he woke it was to strange noises. At first he thought it was another hallucination, or maybe the sound of his heart. No, it was banging. Then there was a cracking, then a tremendous BOOM that made the world shake. Cain was too weak to move, but his eyes were on the ceiling, wide eyed. There was a shaft of light on the ceiling. White and searing. After so long in darkness it hurt his eyes and he squinted.

Another BOOM and more light spilled into his prison chamber, blinding him. Cain tightened his eyes, going into the second sight to control how much light entered his eyes. He could hear voices now, they were talking, but he couldn’t hear their words. With a final BOOM and a great crash Cain knew the wall behind him had crumbled. He couldn’t even move his head to look he was so weak.

A shadow was cast across him and a figure was above but the light made them hard to see. He squinted as they knelt next to him and took his face in their hands.

“Cain,” and their voice was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. He had to focus to bring their face into view.

“Abel,” Cain rasped, the first words he’d spoken in decades.

“Yes,” he said, running his thumbs across Cain’s drawn face tenderly, like he hadn’t in centuries.

“ _Abel_ ,” he growled and with strength he didn’t know he had he lifted his hand and put it around Altair’s neck. Altair looked sad, but he understood too. He had no strength left in that hand and couldn’t even squeeze. Before he could have broken Altair’s neck with one hand, but not anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Altair said sincerely. “I’m so sorry.”

“Altair,” someone called from outside the cell, “What the hell is that?”

Altair looked away from Cain to someone he couldn’t see, still holding Cain’s face. “Our way to get Desmond back,” he said. He looked back down at Cain, “Lets go, brother.” Cain didn’t cry, but he nearly wanted to. Altair released his face and picked him up. Cain was so frail and thin that Altair could carry him easily. Cain put his head on Altair’s shoulder and slept.

—

Cain was roused by the smell of food. His stomach growled loudly and he opened his eyes. The world was washed in grey and that wouldn’t do. He switched over into color vision and looked around, took stock of himself.

He had a needle in his arm and it was attached to several bags of clear liquid above him. He tipped his head to read them. They were nutrient rich liquids to keep him alive and hydrated. Attached to his other hand was a manacle which lead to a bracket in the wall via a five foot long metal rope. He gathered up the slack and gave both ends firm tugs. The bracket was unmoving and the manacle was tight to his wrist. It didn’t chafe though as it was lined with wool. The same type of restraints used on people at insane asylums.

Other than that he was fine. He must have gone Under, or been induced to go Under and with some actual energy to burn his body had returned him to his original perfection. If a bit flabby around the stomach. He always hated having to work off that bit of belly fat every time he Woke.

Then he looked around him, to where he’d smelled the food and instantly started drooling. Near the bed he was lying in was a table laden with a feast.

Cain looked around, no one was coming for him, or had shown up when he’d Woken. He was sure the food was for him. He pulled the needle out of his arm and got out of bed. His tether to was wall was just long enough for him to sit at the table and reach across it.

He hadn’t seen food in so long he didn’t even know where to start. Then he spied a bowl of pomegranate seeds and took those. He ate those as he figured what he’d eat next. Once the bowl was empty he moved on to the hot things first. They were sitting on curious black metal plates and when he touched one he found they were hot plates. Oh so technology had finally advanced enough to have significant, portable, electricity. That was a nice change.

Cain ate until he was full and then ate more until he was uncomfortable. Then he crawled back into the bed and slept for what felt like the first time in decades. When he woke the food was still there and he ate more and finally he felt satisfied.

All that was left was to sit and wait. He reclined on the bed and waited. Altair would come eventually.

He waited several hours before the door opened. Cain got out of the bed went to the end of his tether, his arm stretched behind him to get that extra three feet. Altair closed the door and they stood facing each other.

“Cain,” Altair said in greeting. Cain said nothing. Now that he was Awake and alive he had the energy to fan the embers of anger. He was furious. “I’m sorry,” he said in a soft voice, but was completely sincere.

“Sure you are.”

“I was wrong,” Altair admitted, “about everything, and I’m sorry. But I need you.”

“Why should I help you? You killed me,” Cain hissed.

Altair came forward and to Cain’s complete surprise knelt in front of him, in arm’s reach. “I accept whatever punishment you have,” he said.

Cain’s hand found its way around Altair’s throat and the immortal didn’t resist him. Cain glared down at him and he tightened his hand, nails digging into Altair’s flesh.

He couldn’t do it. When Altair offered himself like this it wasn’t right. It wasn’t just murder, it was slaughter, a sacrifice. A sacrifice to Cain, who was an angry god you needed to appease with blood. He was at once disgusted in himself. He still wanted to kill Altair once or twice, but not like this. He didn’t want a sacrifice.

Cain released Altair to the young immortal’s surprise. “I won’t kill you now,” Cain growled. “But I will. On my terms, because you deserve it for what you did to me. Not like this. No, I will kill you other ways.”

Altair looked up at him knowing he’d sinned and accepting his punishment. He looked like the scared boy he’d picked up out of the gutter so long ago, desperate for direction and purpose. “Now what is it?” Cain asked.

Altair got to his feet slowly, “I failed,” he said. “The world is suffering.”

“What did you do? Or rather, what _didn’t_ you do?”

“I found him,” Altair said. “The man I saw in the Apple. Only it wasn’t what I expected. People from before came,” and Cain’s eyebrows went up. The proeathans? They were back? “They’re committing genocide, and have the man I saw captive.”

“What do you expect me to do about it?” Cain asked. “Expect me to clean up your mistakes again?”

Altair looked down, he’d never seen Altair so humble. “I missed you so much,” Altair looked up at him mournfully. Despite himself Cain’s heart ached. He was angry at Altair, but he’d missed him too. They’d been everything to each other for over a century, and even when they’d separated every times they crossed paths they worked well together. There was always the longing to have what they’d had before. Altair had always been too stubborn to go back, even though Cain would have been willing. “Every day. I want your help, but I also want you back.”

Cain put his finger in Altair’s face, “You have much to atone for,” Cain hissed.

“I know,” Altair whispered.

“Release me, tell me what happened, and we’ll figure it out,” he said. “Starting from the beginning, what did I miss?” he asked as Altair went around to undo his shackle.

“From this apocalypse, or where you left off?”

“Where we left off,” Cain said.

“Its been a while. Hundred and twenty years or so.”

Cain punched him and Altair clattered to the floor. He was left winded from the force but felt so _alive_. “A _hundred years_?” he snapped. “You stupid boy. More stupid and selfish than I thought!” he cried. “Get up, I want to hit you again,” he snapped and Altair got up. Cain punched him again and felt better than before.

Cain ran his hand through his hair. It had been long and disgusting while in his prison, but someone had cut it to an appropriate length. Altair got to his feet a

gain. “Going to hit me again?” he asked.

Cain glared at him, “Not that you don’t deserve it you selfish child,” he flicked Altair in the forehead. “What year is it?”

“Twenty-fourteen,” Altair said.

“Where are we?”

“Hawke Island, Indian Ocean. Its just you, me, and Clay here.”

“Who’s Clay?”

“False immortal, ex Assassin, works with us now.”

Cain took a deep breath, “History lesson, _then_ ,” he poked Altair’s chest, “We’ll worry about your failures.”

Altair sighed a little, “Okay. Come with me,” and Cain followed Altair out of the room and into the mansion to find somewhere to talk. There Altair recounted the history of the world for the past century to Cain and he mourned how much he’d missed and how much he’d have to catch up on. 

Then Altair told him about the man from his future. A man named Desmond. Cain could tell just from how Altair talked about Desmond that he knew he loved the boy like he did nothing else. They were everything to Altair and that was how Cain would punish his brother. He wouldn’t hurt Desmond, in fact he’d help him. But he would use the boy to hurt Altair in ways he was sure the immortal didn’t know he could be hurt. He was rip out Altair’s heart and turn make it for someone else. Cain smiled to himself at thought. Such a good plan. Altair would feel pain a thousand fold when the boy he loved no longer needed him, no longer valued his opinion or sought his guidance or respected his authority.

In this way he’d punish Altair for what he’d done.


	7. What Would You Do?

Hawk shouldn’t have been here, he knew that. Altair and Ezio had told him he needed to just forget them. But he couldn’t. The echo of his heart yearned to be healed and feel the warmth he could remember with crystal clear clarity but couldn’t conjure himself no matter how much he tried.

He was across the street of the Assassin Den in Baltimore, perched on the roof, looking down and in. Sarah had taken the room that overlooked the street. He could see her and their little son. Hawk knew everything about the two of them. His son’s name was Micheal junior, after him, Sarah always was so romantic. Micheal was six and looked like the both of them. Hawk’s wavy hair but Sarah’s ashy brown color, Hawk’s nose but his mother’s mouth and delicate hands. Hawk couldn’t feel love but when he looked at the little boy through the window where he and Sarah were playing on the floor with some of his toys he knew he loved his son, though he’d never met the child.

As for Sarah, she ran a tight shift at her Den. Baltimore was one of the best equipped cities on the Seaboard after Sarah had come. She’d stayed up for days straight to make it so and Hawk had checked in on her now and then during that time. Sarah worked like a woman possessed by a great cause, like she had to accomplish great things. Everyone knew that Baltimore’s readiness and ability was solely because of Sarah, since before she’d come Baltimore had been ill prepared for Assassins. And it had been done by a woman. A woman who, at the time, was raising a two year old. To say it was impressive would be an understatement. Three different Assassins had tried to court her after Hawk had just vanished and a thread of worry had tugged on his heart when he’d found out. She’d turned every single one of them away with a fury. He’d even seen the last one and how she’d yelled at the man when he’d tried to kiss her and punched him for trying to taint her honor towards her husband. Everyone tried to convince her Hawk was dead, she refused to listen to them. She knew Hawk was alive, but that he’d just run from her. Guilt was an old smoke of sensation in his chest.

Hawk watched his wife and child play, fingering the golden band on his left hand idly, frowning. Altair and Ezio were right, he shouldn’t be here. But he didn’t leave.

Finally Sarah got up and left to do something Hawk couldn’t see, leaving Micheal alone to continue playing. He got bored quickly without his mother and got up and walked over to the window. He looked out onto the street where there were a few people about but not many, then he looked up. Hawk wanted to shrink away when his son saw him but he couldn’t move. The boy just looked at him and then smiled and waved at him, figuring Hawk was an Assassin. Hawk hesitated and then waved back, trying to smile. He had trouble doing that, the others said it always looked so forced.

Micheal turned away from the window when his mother called and Hawk got to his feet when Sarah came to the window when Micheal pointed. He pulled his hood up to hide his face better. It didn’t matter, there was instant recognition. Shit how did she know? Hawk quickly turned away even as Sarah shoved the window open and climbed the roof. He was heading down the other side, away from the Den when he heard her shout, “Micheal!” That just made him run and he sprinted across the rooftops away from the Den.

Hawk had the curious sensation of emotionless tears on his cheeks as he ran. He didn’t feel why, but his body and brain weren’t on the same page as far as feelings. He didn’t bother to wipe them away even when he stopped running. They were proof he wasn’t totally broken.

He didn’t stop running until he found Ezio in New York, using his Apple to track the immortal better than a bloodhound. Ezio was living it up in the aftermath of the Revolution. He was wealthy, handsome, and liked pretty women and fine food. Hawk was sure Ezio could provide for a small economy all on his own with his expenses.

When he arrived at Ezio’s mid Atlantic home he knocked and waited impatiently for Ezio to open the door. He did, wearing a morning robe and probably nothing under it. Normally that wouldn’t be so odd except that it was nearly five in the afternoon.

“Hawk,” Ezio rose his brows at Hawk, “you look like hell.”

“Help,” Hawk said and Ezio frowned, guiding him inside.

“What’s the matter?” Ezio asked.

“I did what you said not to do. I- I went to see Sarah-

“Hawk, me and Altair told you that was a terrible idea,” Ezio told him.

“I know. I know,” Hawk said, “I just… I miss her. I still love her. I just wanted to see her,” he said desperately. “She saw me.”

“She _saw_ you?” Hawk nodded. Ezio sighed to himself in Italian and gave Hawk a little whap on the hand.  “Stay away from her. You aren’t a part of her life anymore. And she isn’t part of yours. She’s a mortal, you’re not and have a whole host of problems on top of that,” he motioned to indicate Hawk as a whole.

“But she knows I was there. She’ll try to find me. What do I do?” Hawk said. He knew his own wife. He knew she’d want to track him down. She might even had an Assassin tail him. He hadn’t seen anyone, he’d left so quickly, but he wouldn’t put it past her.

Ezio frowned at him, “Stay _away_. From. Her,” he said sternly. “That life is dead. You’re basically dead. You can offer her nothing and even if you could feel, mortal women only hurt you.” Hawk didn’t ask what he meant. He knew Ezio knew. Altair and Ezio had told him the stories of them trying to have normal lives. Never worked out. At best they pretended to age with the use of Apples for decades, or colored their hair, used makeup to add blemishes to their faces. At worst their wives grew to hate them and left them, or the women just died of old age. “Me and Altair tell you that to save you, you know that right?”

“Yes,” Hawk said softly. “I just love her.”

“I know,” Ezio put his hand on Hawk’s shoulder, “and I know it hurts. But I promise you it _is_ better this way. Learn from our mistakes, don’t make them. Okay?” Hawk nodded mutely already knowing he was going to disobey almost immediately. Disobey and rub salt in the wound after ripping off the scab. Something told him he was doing exactly what the two of them had done when they’d found out they were immortal. Hawk was still a bit in denial even after six years and having gone Under three times. All for stupid reasons. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” Ezio asked.

“Yes, sure,” he nodded fractionally. Ezio beckoned and Hawk followed him into his big house.

\--

Some weeks later Hawk was passing through Baltimore again. He honestly was just passing through. He intended to go south to Roanoak because he had always been curious about the place and he needed something to do. Solving a mystery seemed like a good idea. Or at least trying to.

He ended up diverting and found himself across the street from the Den again, looking into his son’s room. If he climbed down a bit he could see into the room and saw the little boy was taking a nap. He sat on the ledge and just watched. He felt nothing, not even the desire to go over and say hello or even the attachment that that child was his blood. There was nothing and Hawk sighed.

Hawk sat there a while before Sarah came and got Micheal from his nap, picking him up and taking him out of his room. Probably to have lunch, Hawk didn’t know.

“‘Cuse me, brother,” Hawk’s head whipped around over his shoulder and found himself looking up at three Assassins standing on the roof behind him.

“Hello,” Hawk said slowly, ready to throw himself off the roof. If he landed it he’d land it and run, if he didn’t he’d crack his skull and go Under. Your choices in life and plans changed when you knew you couldn’t really die. Suddenly death as an escape was an option.

“Den leader’s been looking for ya,” said the Assassin, a small man with shoulders like an ox and a few days worth of growth on his face.

“Has she now?”

“Yes. She don’t like it when she’s made to wait,” and Hawk nearly snorted. No, she certainly didn’t. Sarah hated waiting, and was terribly impatient. How she dealt with Hawk’s incompetence and being completely blind to her advances during their courtship Hawk had no idea.

“Well, that certainly is a problem, cause I have no intention of seeing her. I’m just passing through,” Hawk said.

The man frowned, “Sorry, brother,” and another of the Assassins reached for him. Hawk didn’t think, he just dropped, pushing himself off the roof. He landed on a wide window sill ten feet below and twisted, facing the wall, to climb down. As he did he glanced up and saw the three coming after him. 

Hawk hit the street first, jumping the last twelve or so feet and booking it down the street at a full sprint. He wove between people as he ran, shoving some out of the way but never stopping. He also didn’t look over his shoulder. If Sarah had sent three hunters after him they’d chase him till they got to him. Especially if they were the special trained trackers who the Assassins used to hunt down and identify high priority targets. He wouldn’t have to look behind him to know they were chasing him.

He led them through a chase through Baltimore, managing to lose them a few times so he could stop and catch his breath, but they always found him again. Between the three of them they could cover more ground when they lost him and they had a strange way of finding one another again just at the right moment. He had a feeling these three probably had Eagle Vision and were signaling each other from down streets, and probably tracking him like that too. Seeking his golden trail. 

Hawk cursed as he was hiding in an alley, back pressed up against a wall, catching his breath. If they had Eagle Vision he’d never lose them. They could just follow his neat little golden trail.

Hawk took his Apple out and rolled it between his fingers, thinking. He could _use_ it. Altair always suggested against it unless he had to. Altair said it was madness, and he was right, but Hawk _was_ madness. But an Apple could help him escape.

Hawk looked up, frowning. Why did he need to escape? What was left of his heart, the shriveled apple core it was, didn’t want to run. And what if he could be _fixed_? Altair couldn’t know everything. Or what if the feeling was just temporary? But mostly he just wanted to hold Sarah again and even if he couldn’t feel the love he just wanted to feel her warmth pressed against him. Being an immortal, even with Altair and Ezio, made you lonely, and even Hawk could feel lonely.

Movement at the corner of his eye made him look. His hunters had found him again. He wouldn’t be taken in like this. His grip on the Apple shifted and it started to glow. Hawk shimmered and then he split into four, the Assassins’ eyes widened under their hoods. Then the Hawks turned and ran the other way, out the other side of the alley and split into four directions, the Assassins running after them, having to split up. One of them was following Hawk and that wouldn’t do. When he turned a corner he split again into two and entered a small crowd, got them confused on which was the real one and they ended up following his illusion.

Hawk walked back to the Den, knowing his illusions had enough false intellect to lead the Assassins on a merry chase, stopping and resting like he had, climbing buildings, and making possible jumps.

The back door of the Den was unlocked and Hawk went right in. The bottom floor was empty, but the second and third floor had tenants in them. Non Assassin tenants that had no idea the nature of the fourth floor. The Den looked like most Dens; clean, orderly, the rooms for Assassins to stay in were all open and small. The rooms were just big enough for a bed, a desk on one wall and a trunk on the other side. He went over to the Den leader’s office and put his ear to the door. He could hear her inside, working, moving things around.

Hawk stood at the door for several minutes, unsure if he was ready to pick at this scab. Then he took a deep breath and opened the door without knocking. “I’m busy, go away,” Sarah said, she was bent over a box on the ground by the wall, going through papers.

“You wanted to see me Den leader,” he said and watched her freeze. Then very slowly she looked up.

“Micheal,” her voice was thin and soft. Then she was on her feet and practically threw herself into his arms. He held her tightly, wanting to feel her warmth against him if nothing else. Then she kissed him firmly. Then she punched him so hard he saw stars. “YOU ASSHOLE!” she screamed at him and punched him again. Hawk was still stunned from the first punch to the face that the second to the shoulder nearly toppled him. “You awful, terrible, horrible man!”

Hawk was sagging a bit, trying to regain his composure. When he looked at her he saw she was blinking back tears that were both fueled by rage and happiness. Her face couldn’t decide if she was furious with him or happy he was here. “Hello, my love,” and she punched him again. He just took it. He felt he deserved it. He was surprised when she kissed him again. Good to know that neither of them knew if Sarah was actually angry at him or not.

The door got pushed closed behind them and Hawk was shoved against it angrily. “Hello,” she said, breathless from her fury and kissing. Hawk forgot she could look so beautiful when she was angry, even when she was angry at him.

Neither of them said anything and just stood close as they were. Then he felt her fingers brush his and he took her hand. One of her fingers stroked the golden band around his ring finger and she finally started to cry. Hawk held her and she cried into his chest, clutching him. He felt bad he didn’t feel the need to cry as well and he could only imagine the emotions Sarah was feeling. He wished he could feel them too. Instead he just offered himself to comfort, stroking her back and holding her hand.

“Why?” she managed to choke out against his chest. “Why did you leave me?”

“Its… complicated,” he said helplessly. “I thought it would be better. I’m sorry,” he told her softly.

“W-we have a son, did you see?”

“Yes,” he squeezed her as she sniffled against his chest. “Though really you’re an awful mother making our son be a junior,” and that made her laugh and cry at the same time.

She wiped her nose a bit and looked up at him, “You didn’t leave me because you don’t love me anymore did you?” she asked him, her voice broken and afraid.

“No,” Hawk promised and squeezed her again. “I still love you,” even if he couldn’t feel it, even if he couldn’t feel anything. No remorse, no sadness, no love, no happiness. Nothing. The first time he’d seen Sarah as an immortal the silence of nothing had suffocated and terrified him. But he’d grown used to it like men without hearing or who were missing a limb learned to live with it. Only his ‘missing limb’ was his emotions. The silence wasn’t so deafening now and lonely when he held Sarah now. “I’ve always loved you.”

“Except when you thought I was troublesome,” she sniffed with a smile.

“Oh you’re _still_ troublesome,” he said fondly and kissed her. She kissed him back deeply and he knew he still loved her despite not able to feel anything. Her inflamed passion was enough to keep him warm. When they parted they were both breathing heavy and she wasn’t crying anymore. Hawk pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her eyes and nose.

She stepped back from him, holding his hand, and pulled him off the door and through her office to where she and Micheal lived. “Wait right here,” she said, leaving him in the doorway of her bedroom and went into Micheal’s room. Hawk wasn’t an idiot, and he knew his wife. He went into the bedroom and took off his boots and started to take off his weapon harness. He could hear Sarah in the other room talking to Micheal briefly. “I thought I said not to move,” she said as he was putting his sword on the desk.

“Yes but I know you hate fiddling with belts and buckles,” Hawk said as she closed the door. He unbuckled the straps of his hidden blade and tossed it onto the desk with the rest of his effects.

“I do,” she agreed, coming over to him. She grabbed him by the lapels and knocked his hood off. “I forbid you from leaving me again,” she told him sternly.

“I don’t want to,” he said softly. “Sarah,” he said before she could kiss him again, “I’m not-- I’m _different_ than how I used to be.”

“And yet you still came when my men went to fetch you, just like you used to. But not until you dawdled around because you knew I was cross with you.” He had to hand it to her there. How many times had he avoided going home after someone told him Sarah was looking for him? Sarah was only looking for him when he was in trouble. Like he’d left his dirty socks out or hadn’t brought in firewood before he’d gone out or had eaten all the jam again.

“No I mean--” he sighed, “Its-

“Complicated,” she said. “You can tell me later, because it never is as complicated as men claim it is.”

He didn’t argue with her, because she didn’t know. Instead he just let her pull him onto her bed. In this respect at least nothing had changed. Took him a bit longer than usual but she didn’t seem to mind, in fact she insisted he do it like that more often. Maybe because it was just physical for him now he was extra aware of making it as good for her as possible.

When they’d exhausted each other they lay on the bed together dozing. Muted diffused sunlight coming in through the window, the sun lower in the sky than it had been when they’d started. If nothing else Hawk felt a bit better and less stressed out by the whole Sarah thing than he did before. He watched her sleeping, lying on her back, her skin still a bit shiny with sweat, her hair clinging to parts of her face. She was so beautiful. He didn’t want her to grow to hate him like some of Ezio and Altair’s wives had.

She took a deep breath when she woke and opened her eyes a crack to look at him, “Hi,” she said, smiling at him. He just smiled back at him and knew it didn’t look fake. She rolled over and touched his face with gentle fingers. “You’re going to stay?” she asked. He knew she meant  that he wouldn’t leave her.

He was conflicted. The others would be so disappointed in him for allowing himself to hurt and be hurt like this. But he didn’t want to leave her. He hadn’t felt so much like himself since he’d Woken the first time, before he’d noticed the lack of emotions. She made him better. Always had so he wasn’t exactly surprised either.

“Yes,” he said and pulled her against him.

She smiled brightly at him, “Good,” she kissed him. “You missed so much while you were away.”

“I know,” he said.

“Things like our son.”

Hawk sighed and stroked her cheek, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“We can have another,” she said.

He gave a little chuckle, “If we keep this up I don’t think it’ll take very long,” and she laughed brightly.

“Mhm,” she nodded, her lips thin in a wide smile. “But first,” she propped herself up on her elbow, so she was above him. “Tell me, dear husband, what is _so_ complicated?” she asked and patted his chest..

Hawk froze. Altair and Ezio said it was a secret. Their ailment was to be kept away from mortals, as they always sought such a power for selfish gains. But this was his wife. Sarah was a practical woman too. “I will tell you, but only if you promise not to breathe a word to _anyone_ ,” he said, taking her hand in his. “It is more secret than our Order, and is important for both my safety and people’s opinions on your sanity.”

She frowned, “What is it?”

“It will sound impossible. But I promise its true and you have to _swear_ to me you’ll keep it secret.”

She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed the ring on it, “I promise.”

“I’m immortal,” and he saw the denial wash over her face and she sat up a bit more, looking down at him.

“But that’s-

“I told you, it’s impossible. But it’s true,” he pushed himself up. “I am immortal. I can be killed, but I cannot die.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I… come back to life,” he said and watched her face change, reading the changes of expression.

“You can’t,” she said.

“If you want I could show you,” Hawk said.

“How?”

“Well my pistol is just on the desk over-

“No!” she cried and pushed him down onto the bed. Well that had been a mistake. “No,” she said again, close to tears.

“Its alright,” he said and wiped at her eyes with his thumb, “I’d come back to you. You’d just have to feed me your good cooking and I’d be back to new.”

“Don’t make jokes Micheal.”

“I’m not,” he said seriously. “But you don’t believe me.”

“Its impossible.”

“It is. But its true. I’m immortal, and I’m not the only one. There are others. One’s from the third crusade, the other,” he gave a dry little laugh, “the other is Ezio fucking Auditore.”

Sarah blinked, “No.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I’ll write him, ask him to visit. You’ll see. Its him, and he looks _just_ like the painting in the Mentor’s office. And oh Sarah he is _such_ a prick.” He could tell she didn’t really believe him, but he supposed that didn’t really matter. He could prove it to her. But not now.

They both looked at the door when there was knocking. “Mommy, I’m hungry,” Micheal called.

Sarah looked at Hawk, “Get dressed, you need to meet your son,” she told him and got out of bed.

“Sarah, you have to believe me,” he sat up and watched her pull on a dress.

She turned to him, “I believe you think these things,” she said, “but belief and reality aren’t always the same,” and he scowled at her. “Get dressed,” she added sternly and then opened the door. “Is my baby hungry?” she asked sweetly down to their son.

“Yes! I want oats and honey,” Micheal said and then Sarah closed the door between them and Hawk. Hawk thumped back onto the bed with a huff. He folded his arms and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before rolling out of bed and getting dressed.

He grabbed his Apple before easing out of the bedroom and found mother and son in the kitchen. Sarah had given Micheal some tea with honey in it and Hawk stood in the doorway watching. Micheal was watching Sarah make him a snack. The floor creaked a bit when Hawk shifted his weight and Micheal turned and looked at him. “Who are you?” they asked.

Hawk went over to the table, feeling Sarah eye him out of the corner of her eye. He squatted in front of his son. “I’m your dad,” he said.

Micheal cocked his head at him, “You are?”

“Yes,” he nodded a little.

“Where have you been?”

Hawk felt ashamed. “I’ve been on an important journey,” he said. “So I couldn’t be around.”

“Oh. Mommy said we have the same name. So does that make you Micheal too?”

“That was my name,” he agreed. “I don’t really use it anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t suit me anymore. Besides, there can only be one Micheal in the family, and I think the name looks better on you,” and Micheal giggled.

“Then what is it?”

“Hawk,” he said.

“Like the bird?”

“Yes,” Hawk said, “and like the bird I can fly too.”

“You can?” Micheal’s eyes grew very wide.

“I can,” Hawk said.

“I wanna see!”

“Later,” Hawk promised him. “You can call me that if you want. Or-- or dad,” he felt slightly foolish, even though this was his son and his son should have every right to call him dad.

“Okay,” Micheal beamed. “Did you finish your journey? Are you going to be staying?”

“Yes,” Hawk said. “I’ll be staying here with you and your mommy,” and he hugged his son. “Oh you’re a good hugger Micheal,” he grunted when Micheal hugged him back and that made Micheal giggle again.

“Mommy says so too,” he said brightly.

“Well your mommy is a very smart lady. You better listen to everything she says,” Hawk said seriously. Still smiling Micheal nodded.

“If only you took your own advice,” Sarah said, putting Micheal’s snack down in front of him.

“I do sometimes,” Hawk said, standing as Micheal became more interested in his snack than Hawk. “I need to go.”

“Miche-

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” Hawk said, “I have my stuff at a inn.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling foolish for sounding so worried.

“And I’m going to send a message to Ezio to have him come to visit. Get the lecture out of the way as quickly as possible for my transgressions.”

“Of course,” though Sarah didn’t believe him about Ezio or the immortality.

“I’ll be back soon,” he went around Micheal’s chair and kissed Sarah firmly. Then he left.

He went back to the inn, wrote a message to Ezio. Altair was currently in Asia so he was the only one he really had to confess to. He told Ezio about what he’d done and then invited him to visit. Knowing Ezio he’d come right away to give Hawk a stern talking to. He paid for the post and then got his things together and took them and Clipper back to the Den. He left Clipper in the stable in the back, picking an empty stall for his trusty horse before going inside. As he did he kept telling himself it’d be okay.

\--

Hawk knew Ezio had come the moment the immortal entered the building. While his Apple couldn’t be used by anyone other than him it still responded to those with great ability. Hawk and his Apple were linked in a way he didn’t quite understand and even when it wasn’t in hand he could still sense it, still sort of manipulate it. He felt when Ezio entered the building because his Apple responded strongly.

There was a firm knocking on the secondary door of Sarah’s apartment, the one that didn’t lead to the office. Hawk was sitting at the table with Micheal, shelling peas for dinner. Sarah got the door and Hawk sort of laughed when Sarah just stood very still. Wasn’t often you came face to face with a legend or something out of a portrait.

“God,” she said.

“Sorry, wrong guy, I’ll let him know you’re looking for him,” Ezio said. Then he looked over her shoulder. “You,” he pointed at Hawk. “Get out here so I can yell at you some you giant nitwit.”

“Who’s that daddy?” Micheal asked him. Micheal had taken to him quickly, thrilled to have someone else who’d play with him and equally thrilled to have a father.

“A friend of mine. His name is Ezio.”

“Etsio?”

“Close,” Hawk said.

“ _Hawk_ ,” Ezio growled from the doorway.

“You could at least say hello to my wife,” Hawk said, getting up. He went over to the door, “Dear,” he took her arm, “go sit down you look like you’re about to faint.”

She looked at him, “You were telling the truth,” she breathed, wide eyed.

“I told you I was,” he said.

“Excuse me,” Ezio said, “Mrs. Hart, I need to borrow your husband. He’s a bonehead and we need to discuss something.” Then Ezio grabbed Hawk’s arm and unceremoniously dragged him away. He pushed Hawk into one of the rooms Assassins could stay in and closed the door. “Have you lost your _mind_?” Ezio asked.

“No,” Hawk said.

“Then what is the matter with you?” he demanded. “You told her everything?” Hawk nodded. “About me and Altair too?” another nod. “Hawk, what part of ‘its a secret’ didn’t you understand?”

“I had to tell her,” he said.

“No you didn’t.”

“I want to. I wanted her to understand. I _love_ her, Ezio. And since I’ve come back I feel… better.”

“Wait wait,” Ezio waved his hands a bit. “Better like… _better_? Like are you actually better or do you just feel better?”

“I still don’t feel,” Hawk admitted. “But I feel better.”

“Have you told her about that?”

“I have. She doesn’t really understand, but she understands I’m not the man I was. And I’ve been able to fake it well enough that it feels natural. You and Altair were wrong,” Ezio blinked in confusion. “You said I’d never recover anything. But I have. Even just a few days. I don’t think I’ll ever be like I was but-

“And what about in ten years when she’s older and you’re not? Or what about in twenty or thirty years when she’s an old woman and you’re not?” Ezio demanded.

“I didn’t-

“Think of that? No shit. Hawk, look,” he put his hands on Hawk’s shoulders. 

 

“I know you love you her,” he said sympathetically. “I loved my Sofia too. She was my first wife. I worshiped the ground she walked on and did everything I could to pretend I aged. Eventually I grew _too_ old and everyone around me would start to grow suspicious. I had to leave her, and my children, before I wanted to. It broke my heart, it broke Sofia’s heart, and the Assassins mourned for weeks that I was gone. If I’d just _left_ with Altair years before that, before I’d ever become so important, before I found something I _loved_ it wouldn’t have hurt so much. I would have saved everyone, including myself, a lot of pain. And then, I was still a fool, just like you. After I ‘died’ I lingered for years, watching, unable to let go. I watched Sofia, my children, my friends all grow old, grey and eventually die. It was worse than when I had to leave them.

“The point is Hawk, that they _will_ die. Sarah will die, your son will die.”

“Why?” Hawk asked Ezio. He understood what Ezio was saying, but that didn’t mean he had to agree.

“What do you mean why?”

“Why does my wife have to die?”

“She’s a mortal Hawk. Mortals die. That is their right.”

“But I was mortal. You were mortal. Altair was mortal. We’re not anymore. We became immortal. Why can’t I make my wife immortal?”

“It doesn’t work that way-

“Why not?” Hawk demanded. “I am broken. Altair _broke_ me. He couldn’t just let me die. He had to meddle in my head. I remember my Apple visions, I had the perfect life. I could have died believing that lie. Instead he tried to save me and instead killed me a thousand fold.

“I appreciate everything you two have done for me the past six years,” Hawk said. “But there’s no rule that says my wife has to die, that my wife can’t become immortal. Altair used my Apple to make me immortal, he made himself immortal with one, and you as well. Why does he get to decide who gets to live and die?” Hawk asked.

“Because he’s the oldest. He knows best,” Ezio said.

“Does he?” Hawk asked. “Or are you just too scared of him to ever question him?” 

“No,” Ezio said. The look in Ezio’s eye was the truth even though his mouth was a lie. Maybe he wasn’t afraid of Altair, but he had a healthy respect for his decisions. “He’d never make Sarah immortal,” Ezio said.

“Well the Apple obeys me, not him, so he’ll have to get over it.”

“Hawk,” Ezio grabbed his arm, “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” Hawk asked.

“You’re not even going to _ask_ her?”

“I was going to,” Hawk said and shrugged off Ezio’s hand. “More than was given to me. You’ve given me your lecture now. Do you want to stay for dinner? If you don’t then just get out. I don’t have time for scared old men.”

“Now listen here kid,” Ezio growled. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“And neither do you,” Hawk said. “So don’t act like you’re better than me. Go back to your sinning Ezio. Its all you have anyway.” Before he’d become Hawk he’d have never said any of these things. But Hawk had no filter, and very little ability to show compassion unless he was paying attention. Hawk just said what he meant and didn’t care for other people’s feelings unless, again, he was paying attention. “I’m going back to my wife and son,” and then he left the room.

Ezio didn’t stay for dinner.

\--

Hawk was sitting on the bed his Apple in his lap. Altair had taught him to scry as one of the first lessons. Probably so he could look in on his family without being close to them and potentially hurting them. He was scrying. For what he didn’t quite know yet.

It had been five months since he’d seen Ezio. He’d talked with Sarah about the immortal thing and she still didn’t really believe him and had just sort of laughed when he said he wanted to make her immortal. 

He’d searched the Apple, with great difficulty, for the secret for immortality and found quickly that it was impossible. At least with this Apple. In ways he didn’t understand his immortality and the Apple were linked. Now he was scrying for something that _could_ make someone immortal, or help him make someone immortal. That was harder than it sounded. On the surface it sounded easy, but in reality it was difficult. Something was blocking his scry when he did it. All he got was a strange miasma when he turned his scrying towards a particular part of the world and when he pressed too hard he was met shown the snarling visage of a beast that was the cross between a dragon and a wolf with piercing blue eyes. He didn’t understand it and kept pushing, but whatever it was was unseeable by him. It was so annoying and frustrating.

He sighed and gave up for the day after having to see the beast. He put the Apple on the bedside table in the little cup he had for it. Sarah didn’t understand his desire to have the Apple close at hand, but she also didn’t comment on it. She was still just happy to have him back with her.

Hawk went and found his son who was in his room doing his home school work. Just simple math and reading for now since he was only six. He sat with Micheal and helped him since Sarah was in her office working. Hawk didn’t know how he felt about effectively being in the woman’s position in their relationship. Helping the children, keeping the apartment tidy, staying inside most of the time. Not like he could go on missions, he was dead to the Assassins.

There was a knocking on the secondary door and Hawk looked over his shoulder, out Micheal’s door. “Your mommy isn’t expecting any personal visits is she?” he asked his son.

“No,” Micheal said.

Odd.

“You keep working I’ll get the door,” and he got up. For a second he thought it could have been Ezio, or maybe Altair. But Altair was very hands off with him for the most part unless he asked. If he’d been capable he would have resented Altair for it since of course now that he was immortal Altair was hands off. Couldn’t have been hands off and just let him die in peace. 

He opened the door to a very tall man of oriental descent who dressed like an American. His black hair was tied back in a limp horse tail and his slightly slanted eyes were icy blue. For a second Hawk had a flashback to his scrying and the wolf-dragon beast he couldn’t see. The man had a pleasant smile for Hawk when he saw him. “Hello, are you Micheal?” he asked.

“Uh… no?” Hawk said. He didn’t know this man.

“Ah,” the man seemed to remember something, “Right, you insist on being called Hawk now. Forgive me, memory isn’t always what it could be,” and Hawk saw a lie when it happened. This man hadn’t forgotten.

“I do. Who are you?”

“No need to act so cagey Hawk, I’m a friend. My name is Cain,” he held his hand out to Hawk.

Hawk took it and shook the big man’s big hand. “How do you know me?”

“My brother told me about you. Some rather glowing words I might add, even if from someone else’s mouth they would have been subjective.”

“I’m sorry I have no idea who you are,” Hawk said.

“No trouble. I didn’t expect you to. I’m Altair’s friend.”

“Altair doesn’t have any friends,” Hawk said automatically.

“Ah, now we both know that isn’t true. And I’m a very _old_ friend.”

A beat passed and then Hawk glanced back into Micheal’s room before giving his attention back to Cain. “How old?”

“Very old.”

“Either you’re having a go at me, or Altair hasn’t told me something very important,” Hawk said.

“It would be the latter. I’m even more secretive than him. Half the time he forgets, the other half he wills himself to pretend I don’t exist. Now, can I come in?”

“Depends. What are you doing here? What do you want? How did you find this place?”

“You called me here,” Cain said seriously. “Quite insistently I might add. So why don’t you tell me why I’m here as I’m just as curious as you.”

“I didn’t call you here. I don’t even know who you are,” Hawk said sternly.

“So you weren’t the person trying to scry me for the past four months?” Cain asked.

“How did-”

“Let me in, lets talk,” Cain said. Hawk let him in. “Lovely home, your wife has excellent taste,” Cain was pleasant and soft spoken, removing his hat when he came into the apartment.

“I’ll be right back,” Hawk said and went into his son’s room. “Mikey,” he said, going to his son and putting his hand on the back of his chair.

“Yeah daddy?” Micheal looked up at him.

“I have a guest over. Its a secret guest. So don’t come out until I come get you, and don’t tell mommy about it okay?”

“Okay,” Micheal nodded. Though he was only six Micheal knew how to keep secrets. He knew that the people Sarah met with were important people and discretion was key. Micheal couldn’t go blabbering about the Order or what his mother did to his street friends. He also knew that sometimes he had to stay in his room when there was a meeting. Sarah also always told Micheal she and Hawk were having a secret talk whenever she decided they were going to make love during the middle of the day (which happened often even though Hawk had been back months).

“Good boy. Now you keep working on your school work and I’ll be back to help you once I’m done.”

“Okay, daddy,” and Micheal went back to his work. Hawk gave his son a fond hair ruffle and went back out to the kitchen, closing the door behind him. Cain was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for him.

Hawk sat opposite him. “So what am I doing here?” Cain asked him.

“I don’t understand. I didn’t call you here. I was just scrying.”

“And from the way you speak of it you don’t even know what scrying is. I’ll save you the boring lecture for another time when you have a better understanding on the nature of things. All you need to know is that I felt you scrying me, and I _do not_ like being spied on. I’ve killed men for less. But we both know that’s only a temporary fix and I doubt would answer my question if I just made a point to put you Under for spying on me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Hawk said. He had a feeling Cain was supposed to be intimidating. It meant nothing to Hawk. He was quite literally fearless. “I was looking for something to help me.”

“With what?”

“I’m immortal.”

“Yes,” Cain agreed.

“My wife is not.”

“Yes,” Cain said after a second.

“Altair and Ezio said I had to stay away from her. Because she will grow old, die, and I will be alone. But why? Why do I have to be alone? Why do any of us have to be alone? If you’re an old friend of Altair’s maybe you know what he isn’t here to answer for,” Hawk said.

“What do you think Altair would say?” Cain asked.

“That he wouldn’t help me because he doesn’t cause unnecessary suffering. Because immortality is a curse inflicted on us.”

Cain sighed with a frown, “Altair is… troubled by his immortality,” he said. “He sees it as a burden. But, it doesn’t have to be that way.”

“No?”

“No,” Cain said. “I’m… very old Hawk. I won’t tell you how old. But its older than Altair. Altair torments himself, and drags you and Ezio down with him. But it doesn’t have to be that way. You’re immortal. You have all the time in the world to do whatever you want. Pursue any path you can imagine. Learn every language in the world, learn to play fifty instruments, become a conqueror, be named a saint, have all the loves of your life you want. Endless time is endless possibilities. Altair is obsessed with dying. He can’t _wait_ until the sun explodes and kills us all for good- oops shouldn’t have said that, that’s science beyond you people yet still. Forget I said that,” Cain waved it away quickly.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Hawk said. “Why do I have to be alone?”

“You don’t,” Cain said.

“I want to make my wife immortal. I love her. I have a condition that makes it impossible for me to feel emotion. Its a void in my life, but when I’m with her it doesn’t feel quite so expansive. I lived without her for just six years and was empty. In the five months I’ve been back with her I can almost pretend I’m fixed. I don’t want to live without her ever again.”

Cain studied him seriously. “What made you like that?”

“I don’t know. I went Under the first time and when I Woke I was like this. Altair thinks it has something to do with my Apple, but he doesn’t know what to do to fix me, and he’s tried.”

“You have an Apple here?” Cain asked, Hawk nodded. “Bring it here. Lets see.” Hawk went and got it and rolled it across the table to Cain. Cain’s brows went up in surprise. “Curious,” he said, running his finger along the cut groove in the Apple. “You’re a very curious creature, Hawk,” he said. “Never seen anything like you before,” Cain smirked.

“Do you know what’s wrong?”

“I might. But its nothing I can fix. I don’t have the ability. It’d take a greater power than I to undo what has been done to you, I’m sorry,” he rolled the Apple back to Hawk. “It is very curious though,” Cain’s smile was like a serpant’s, but not in a deadly way.

“Can you make my wife immortal?” Hawk asked.

“Yes.”

“ _Will_ you make her immortal?”

“Does she want to become immortal?”

“She doesn’t believe me about it,” Hawk said. “I could convince her if she just _saw_ that I wasn’t crazy.”

“What do you think would convince her?”

“If I went Under and came back,” Hawk said.

“And what would you do to make your wife immortal if she agreed?”

“Anything,” Hawk said without hesitation.

“Even have your son die?” Cain asked.

“If I had to. But why?”

“Because eternal life is not free, Micheal,” Cain said purposefully. “We all have paid some price for our immortality. Life and death always has to have a balance. Immortals tip the scale too far onto the side of life. We are eternal. For our lives to be equal the universe must balance out with death somehow. At least when you force immortality. Myself and Altair are ‘natural’ immortals. We stumbled into it. You and Ezio were pressed into your immortality. 

“For us there was enough leeway between life and death to allow our Waking rather painlessly. Ezio paid his price all through his life, because in this timeline he was destined to become immortal. He lost his family, all his friends, and led one of the bloodiest wars between you foolish Assassins and Templars since the third crusade. Your price was you. You’re different, in more ways than you can imagine. The Apple changed you and you are your own price.

“And men are one thing. But a woman? There are no female immortals. Do you know why?”

“Why?” Hawk asked.

“Because they _are_ life. A man is just the product of a woman, of the first woman, back millions of years. We all come from our mothers and while nowadays we take the surnames of our fathers and men treat women like their property; it wasn’t always like that. A true female immortal is worth more than the four of us. While a man can sire any number of children, that’s all he is, a sire and ultimately gives little in way of history to genetics. Because its through our mothers that humanity exists, not our fathers. A woman has the history of our entire species within her body, passed from her mother and their mother and an unbroken line of mothers since the dawn of time. To have such a strong component for life as an immortal would require a great price,” Cain said. “Does that make sense?”

“I think so? Hawk was a bit confused.

“It might be above your scientific understanding,” Cain said nicely. “But the fact is is that a woman would tip the scale between life and death more than a man. You want your wife to be immortal? You must pay in blood.”

“What do I have to do?” Hawk asked seriously.

“No hesitation?”

“I don’t know the meaning anymore,” Hawk said. “You said my son would have to die.”

“Yes.”

“We can have another,” Hawk said.

“You could,” Cain agreed. “But death of children has driven women to madness in grief.”

“Because they have nothing in their lives but to be a mother. Sarah is more than that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. What else?”

“You’re very serious about this.”

“I refuse to live without her again,” Hawk said.

“Very well. Many people will die because of your wife, can you live with that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I will make your wife immortal.”

“You will?”

“Yes. But you must be the one to kill your son. So you know that when you comfort your heart broken wife that you’re the cause of her misery and grief.”

“Now?”

“No. If you convince her. Then yes, you must before I do it.”

“Fine. Kill me.”

“Kill you?”

“Yes, and then go get her. I want her to see that death is not permanent for us.”

Cain chuckled a little and got up. “You certainly are interesting Hawk,” he said. “How would you like it? I find that suffocation is the easiest thing to come back from. At the very least the fastest. You’re young yet, should take a few hours to Wake again.”

“Then do that,” Hawk said, looking ahead unflinchingly. Cain stood behind him and put his hands around Hawk’s neck. “Wait,” he said quickly and got to his feet. He went to Sarah’s office and poked his head inside, she was at her desk doing paperwork. “Honey,” he said.

“Yes dear?”

“I’m going out for a bit.”

“Okay,” she said, not looking at him. Hawk closed the door and motioned for Cain to follow him. He led Cain to one of the Assassins quarters and sat on the bed. “Okay, now do it,” he said seriously. Cain put his big hands around his neck and put pressure on his windpipe.

“I’ll get your wife before you Wake,” Cain said. 

Hawk had to fight the urge to fight back against Cain suffocating. He ended up just sitting on his hands as he choked and felt light headed. He passed out before he died, so that was something at least.

He Woke to the sound of sobbing. His eyes opened and he looked around. Cain was standing in the doorway, leaning against the side, arms folded. The crying was coming from Sarah who was sobbing into lap.

“Oh c’mon now, I’m not really dead,” Hawk said.

Sarah’s head shot up. “Micheal!” she hugged him tightly and he hugged her back. She took his face in her hands. “But- but _how_? I checked your pulse, you were dead.”

“I told you,” Hawk said. “I’m immortal. I can be killed, but I can’t die. I will always come back to you,” he gently stroked her face.

She just stared at him, trying to figure it all out. Then she looked at Cain, “Who’s he?”

“He’s also an immortal,” Hawk said.

“Your husband brought me here,” Cain said. “He wants me to give you our gift.”

“Gift… Become immortal?”

“Yes,” Cain said.

“I don’t… You’re joking.”

“I’ve been known to but not about things of this gravity,” Cain said. “Do you want immortality Mrs. Hart?” Cain asked. “Your husband will outlive you, and your son, and your grandchildren, and great grandchildren, and all your descendants until they are hardly your descendants. He can do it alone, or you can be with him.”

Sarah looked overwhelmed. Hawk took her hand, “You don’t have to decide right now,” he said. “Its a big question. Right?” he directed at Cain.

“Correct. I will be around for if you need me. Good day Harts,” and he pulled his hat on and left.

Sarah looked at Hawk wide eyed, “Is he for real?” Hawk nodded. “And you’re okay?”

“I’m perfect,” Hawk promised and kissed her. “Well, except I’m _starving_.”

“And how is this different from any other time?” she sort of scolded, Hawk laughed.

He sat up and pulled Sarah to her feet when he stood. “Its known as the Waking hunger. Its a small price we pay when we come back to life. Our body uses a lot of energy to Wake us, so we need to eat to replenish that energy.”

“I see,” Sarah said thoughtfully. “Its dinner time too.”

“Perfect timing,” Hawk kissed her cheek and they went back to their apartment.

\--

Hawk was sleeping when he was being woken. It was barely past sunrise when Sarah prodded him awake. “What?” he grumbled.

“Go find your friend,” she said.

“What?” he asked tiredly.

“He promised he would make me immortal. I want that,” she said and Hawk was abruptly awake.

“You do?” It had been two weeks and he could see Sarah thinking about it the entire time. 

“Yes,” she said and leaned over, kissing him. “I want to be with your forever,” she took his left hand in her left. “Till death do us part,” she whispered, their rings rubbing together a bit.

“Alright. I’ll go find him. When its light out,” Hawk yawned. She lay down nearly on top of him and Hawk held her against him. He slept a bit more and once it was light he got up and went to find Cain after breakfast. As he was leaving Micheal was off to see his tutor a few streets down and then after to play with his street friends. He found Cain easily enough with the help of his Apple.

“At last,” Cain said when Hawk found him. “So?”

“Sarah wants it,” Hawk said.

“Very well. You remember what I told you?”

“Yes.”

“Then go do it.”

“You’ll do it today?”

“Yes. Or rather, we will.”

“Okay,” and Hawk left Cain and went to find his son, murder in his heart. But it wasn’t cold or hot, it was just murder. Murder with a purpose. Hawk would give Sarah as many children as she wanted, he just had to kill their first born. Micheal would have balked, recoiled, and refused such a gruesome task. But Hawk was not Micheal. 

He loved his son, but he didn’t ‘love’ his son. He loved his son as a theory, an idea but there was no memory of love he could cling to like he could with Sarah. He felt nothing when he found the tutor’s house and called Micheal from it, saying they were playing hookie and to not tell his mommy. 

Hawk took Micheal down to the beach, which he knew his son and friends did sometimes. He let let him play in the water for a bit before eventually joining him. Hawk then put his hand on his son’s head and pushed down, holding his head under the water. Micheal thrashed against him, trying to get his head above water but Hawk held him down. His little hands grabbed at him tugging urgently and nearly made something happen but Hawk just used his other hand to hold him down.

The death was passionless, and no one even saw. When Micheal stopped thrashing Hawk released him and the body of the little boy floated a bit. Hawk checked for a pulse. Satisfied there was none Hawk walked back to the shore.

He felt no guilt for what he’d done. He would murder and sacrifice whatever he had to to keep Sarah. He dressed in dry clothes and went back to Cain.

“Its done,” he told Cain.

“No remorse?”

“No,” Hawk said.

“Interesting. Lets go find your wife,” and they both returned to the Den. Sarah was in the apartment, doing a bit of tidying up. “Mrs. Hart, you look lovely today,” Cain said when they walked in.

“Oh, Cain, thank you,” she said. She looked a bit nervous.

“No need to be anxious,” Cain said. “Everything will be fine. It’ll be done before your son gets home.”

“Oh good,” she said but was still gnawing her cheek anxiously.

“Sarah, really, its fine,” Hawk said soothingly.

“If you say so,” she swallowed, “So, what do I have to do?”

“I would suggest sitting somewhere comfortable. The process _does_ involve dying, but you’ll come back,” she nodded and sat in her favorite chair. “Now then Hawk, the Apple?” Hawk produced it and held it out for Cain. “No, its yours, I can just use it with your permission.”

“You have my permission,” Hawk said dumbly.

“Act like you’re going to scry,” Cain said. Hawk did and was hit by the nausea as the Apple started to glow. Cain reached out and put his hand on the Apple, closing his eyes. “Now, Sarah,” he said, “When I tell you I need you to touch the Apple, can you do that?”

“Yes,” she said.

“All right,” and Hawk heard the singing, high and soaring, nearly shrieking. “Shhh,” Cain whispered and the singing softened. Cain mouthed words but Hawk couldn’t read his lips. Then he removed his hand from the Apple. “All right, touch the Apple.” 

Hawk offered the Apple to Sarah. She touched it and there was bit of a flash. Sarah fell forward and Hawk dropped his Apple to catch her before she fell off the couch. “This is right?” Hawk asked Cain.

“Oh yes,” Cain said.

“How do you know?” he asked.

“I just do,” Cain said. “She’ll Wake in half an hour or so. Have some food ready for her, she’ll be ravenous.”

“She’s immortal?”

“Yes,” Cain said.

“You said there would be more death.”

“ _Oh yes_.”

“What sort?”

“I don’t know. The world will balance itself out in time. I suspect there will be another war soon, a big one.”

“Like how soon? Weeks, months, years?”

“I don’t know,” Cain said. “Could start soon, could take years or decades. But you will know it when you see it for it will be suffering like the world has yet to see in centuries. A woman immortal…” he looked thoughtful. “Keep her safe, Hawk. She’ll be different when she Wakes. Not like you,” he added at Hawk’s question already forming on his lips. “But different.”

“Thank you,” Hawk said.

“My pleasure. Tell my brother I said hello, and if he’s angry about this to come yell at me about it instead of you.”

“Who is your brother?” Hawk asked.

“Why, Altair of course,” Cain smiled then nodded to Hawk and walked out.

 


	8. Hanging by a Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to think of this story in other ways recently and how I'd change it if it wasn't a fanfic. It's kinda hard with how much AC minusha is engrained into the story itself even though the story itself isn't about the Assassins at all. This is one of the ways I've been thinking about it. Not quite sure how I like it but it's interesting at least.
> 
> Something something everyone loves Kaley and wishes Oliver was around and not Andrew or something idk. Also everyone with their gentle ideas about how Kaley is/was; sit down.
> 
> There… isn't really an end? I just stopped writing it cause I wasn't in love with the idea all the way but there is some sort of ending I guess? It was gonna be longer and Altair was gonna show up but I just *shrug* Wasn't working out. Back to the drawing board but at the very least you get to meet the Miles clan and Kaley stabbING THE SHIT OUT OF ANDREW. Everyone loves that bit.

When her father found out he was furious. Of course, he was. Kaley didn't blame him. She was furious too. Mostly furious at her father though. He thought she'd failed him and didn't accept that it was an accident. Why would she do that when she had Oliver waiting for her? Kaley didn't know. She couldn't help herself. Anything to piss Troy off really.

Well. She certainly had pissed him off now.

"Just let me get an abortion," she said.

"Absolutely not," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because Assassins don't allow abortions. I can't make exceptions."

"Why not? I'm your  _daughter_  and you're the leader of Willow Creek. Who would know? I'm not even showing!"

"It's the principle of the thing, Kaley. You know, principles?"

"I have principles," she insisted. "Just because they're different from yours-

"You cheated on your damn fiancé girl!" he cried.

"He's not my fiancé!" she yelled back. "He's my betrothed. There is a god damn difference! My arranged betrothed I might add. I never picked Oliver, I just approved of him. I'm allowed to feel things for other people and you not fly off the handle old man. Just because you're miserable doesn't mean we all have to be miserable!"

"Watch your tone, missy," Troy growled.

"What're you gonna do?" she challenged him, all fire of knowing he loved her too much to actually punish her.

"I  _should_  make you marry him-

"You wouldn't," she said, horrified.

"Why not? You want to disobey so badly you destroy your chances with a nice, well-bred, man like Oliver why shouldn't you have to face the consequences?" he demanded. "Your loose principles got you pregnant. There are consequences to these things."

"I'm not marrying him," she said.

"You will if I say you are."

"Go to hell old man. I'd rather die first."

"Don't speak like that to your father," Troy hissed.

"I'll speak to you like you are. My father loves and understands me. He's not the leader of Willow Creek with me."

"Well, I see now that that was a mistake. You're too rebellious. I never held you accountable for anything and now look at you. Shaming us by getting pregnant from an outsider. If I didn't make you marry him what would Oliver think hmm?"

"I think he'd take it a hell of a lot better than you, old man. He wouldn't hate me for my mistakes like you are."

"I forgive your mistakes. Too much," Troy folded his arms and looked down at her. "You're not marrying Oliver now. You don't deserve it."

"I'm not marrying Andrew," she hissed.

"Yes. You are."

"No. I'm not." Anger boiled just under her skin. She felt like she was about to catch on fire and her rage was so white hot it blinded her for a second. "You can't make me and there is going to be nothing to marry if you force me."

"It's decided. This is your punishment for being fickle, combative, disobedient, and rebellious. Now get out of my sight."

"I don't want to look at you either," she spat and stalked off.

She didn't know if her father would actually go through with it. At least not at first. Took her a few days to realize that yes, Troy was going to go through with it. Andrew had been happy when he'd been told. Kaley just sat and stewed, feeding her fury, and hating her impotence. She would not go through with it. She refused. But her father would make her do it. He'd force her hand to sign her name on the marriage license.

Unless there was nothing to marry.

There was a tiny ceremony. No one was invited. It was just her family and someone to officiate it. Kaley had decided to spite them all about it. She wore nice clothes, put on makeup, did up her light brown hair, looked like a bride. Andrew had constrained glee about the entire thing. Kaley acted sullen but did offer a few sad smiles.

Towards the end of the ceremony, the officiator asked Kaley if she took Andrew to be her husband. "I do not," she said. Then she looked to her father who was standing to the side, arms folded. "And I think this is stupid. All this for an outsider," she looked back at Andrew. "Who no one will miss."

Everyone forgot Kaley was a strong fighter. Too used to her being silly, cute, or sitting in her room staring at her puzzle board. They forgot she'd been top of her Forms class. Forgot her instructors had lamented the fact that she'd never be a field agent. She'd done it before anyone realized she'd done it. One moment Andrew was standing there. The next he had a knife in the side of his neck. She gave a firm jerk and tore out his throat to make sure Andrew was both dead and everyone got the point. Andrew was only falling to the floor when her brothers reacted and yanked her away. But it was too late.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Arlyn demanded.

"Kay… you just— holy shit," Eric was looking down at Andrew even as he held onto Kaley's arm. Her white dress was splattered in blood from Andrew.

She shook off her brothers and looked at her father. "I told you. I'm not marrying Andrew."

Troy still had his arms folded but he didn't look angry. If anything he looked impressed or amused. "Your dress is all dirty," was all he said.

"That's all you have to say?" Eric asked.

Troy just looked at Kaley, then at his three sons. He didn't look at Andrew on the floor. "Through blood, we strive for a better tomorrow. Never seen such an apt display of our words really."

"Dad, she just  _killed_  a man," John said.

"A man. Not an Assassin. Release your sister, let's clean this up."

"That's it? That's all you're saying?" Eric asked. "You don't even care?"

"I never cared about Andrew. I only cared because he got your sister pregnant." That was a shock to Eric and Arlyn. They hadn't known. "But he's dead now so I don't have to enforce the rules since you can't marry a corpse. Your sister made her point."

"Can I get that abortion?" she asked.

"No," Troy said. "Let it remind you that I'm still right and you aren't Matriarch yet. Now let her go. We need to clean up your sister's mess."

—

Kaley's leg bounced as she waited in the airport. She'd left Duncan with Eric and his family so she could greet Oliver at the airport with Troy and John. She was incredibly nervous even though they'd talked over the phone a few times. He knew about Duncan. He also knew what she'd done to Duncan's father. She still wasn't sure how he felt. Oliver wasn't a yeller like her family was. She didn't know if he was angry. Or rather  _how_  angry he was.

She kept looking at the screen to tell her when the plane would land and hopped up she saw it finally had. She went and stood by the doorway and waited. The plane from Portland emptied slowly but eventually, she saw him. He was hard to pick out in a crowd but he was so pale it wasn't as hard as it could have been. He saw her too and walked over to her.

She was surprised and thrilled when the first thing he did was put his bag down and hug her. She hugged him back and he felt so warm and smelled like recycled air but she didn't care. She stroked the back of his head and when he pulled back he just held her face and kissed her. Oliver was such a good kisser. Her heart jumped right up into her throat with happiness and kissed him back. Then he hugged her again.

"Well, guess he isn't mad," John said from behind her.

Oliver's hug grew a bit tighter and he said, "I am. But I'm also not a fool." He let her go but held onto her. "Only fools don't forgive women like Kaley."

"Hear that, dad?" she turned over her shoulder to give him a look.

"Don't act so smug. It's unbecoming," Troy said.

She turned away from him, back to Oliver. "Despite what you might think, I missed you," she said softly and held his face in both hands. Oliver's face was impassive but she could see it in his eyes he wanted to believe her. He wanted that to be true. And it was true. She had missed him. But like her father said, she was a fickle thing. "I'm sorry," she said, meaning it with all her heart. She kissed him again and he hugged her to him.

"Shall we get going?" Troy asked when they parted, faces still close.

Kaley pulled away from Oliver and turned around. "Sure." Oliver picked up his bag and they went to get the rest of his luggage. He'd be staying a longer time than last time. Apparently, Oliver's grandfather was furious about Kaley and Oliver was only here because he'd just come anyway without his family's consent. He'd be here until he'd stayed long enough for his liking or a family member came to get him.

The drive back to Willow Creek was quiet and Kaley spent it talking quietly to Oliver. She apologized some more and by the time they rolled up to the facility she just had her head on his shoulder. Oliver held her hand gently.

The car stopped and they showed Oliver where he'd be staying in Troy's home since he was a guest. Kaley helped him unpack and they ended up lying on the bed together, side by side.

"Tell me what you're thinking," she said, holding his hand. They were laying on the bed short ways so they could be somewhat comfortable.

"I think I'm still mad at you," he said, then he sighed and looked at her. "And mad at myself."

"Mad at yourself?"

He rolled over to face her. "I'm not an idiot, Kaley," he said. "Your father told me all about you. He told me you were far too spontaneous and rash sometimes and did things just to be troublesome and you liked to toy with boys. He told me that but I didn't really believe him because you were heir to a good family. I thought it'd be no problem. I'm mad at myself because I left you with nothing but a promise and everyone knows when Assassins promise 'I'll be back' that it's the one they're most likely to break.

"So am I mad at you for going off with some other man? Yeah. I am. But I'm mad at myself too because I was stupid enough to leave you."

"Well you don't have to anymore," she said and squeezed his hand. "And I'm sorry. I didn't… it was an accident."

"I'm sure it was," he said like he believed her.

"But you forgive me?"

"I mean… the way I heard it you killed the guy pretty good," Oliver said. "Nothing says regret quite like murder." She smiled a little. "I'm just sorry I missed you in full form. If I remember right you always handed me my own ass when he sparred." He gently touched her face and she leaned over to kiss him softly.

They ended up kissing for a while and it was nice. Oliver was sweet and wanted this to just be behind them. Duncan stayed over at Eric's that night so Oliver could prepare himself for having a see the toddler.

In the morning Eric's pretty wife Naomi came over with their own daughter and Duncan so the kids could play. It was after breakfast and Eric had stopped by shortly after to ask when Kaley wanted to take Duncan back.

Duncan was very happy to see his mother and wiggled out of Naomi's arms right into Kaley's. Her little Duncan was just over a year old, almost starting to walk. She might not have loved Andrew but she loved Duncan. Her precious little boy. She hadn't let Troy convince her to hate him and if he would force her to carry him she would love him with all her might. "Hey, baby. Were you a good boy for aunty Naomi?" He was too young to talk but he did stick his tongue out at her with a smile. "I'll take that as a yes," she said and kissed her son on the cheek.

"He was very well behaved. Though missed his mommy last night," Naomi said, giving Duncan's fat baby hand a little squeeze. "Should I leave Lizzie?" she asked, meaning her daughter who was a few years older than Duncan.

Kaley looked into the living room where Oliver was sitting, looking at the wall. His hands were rubbing his knees anxiously. Lizzie could be a good out to get Duncan away if Oliver was an asshole about it but she thought good enough about the Polish Assassin that she didn't think he'd react badly. "No… I think it'll be okay," she said slowly.

"Can Duncan stay over more aunty Kaley?" Lizzie asked from her mother's side.

"Oh? You liked having Duncan over?"

Lizzie nodded as Naomi said, "She likes taking care of him. She was the one who fed him last night." Naomi stroked her daughter's hair fondly.

"We'll see," Kaley said. "At the very least he'll come over for day visits. Does that sound good, Lizzie?" Lizzie nodded quickly. "Okay. Thanks for taking him, Naomi."

"Of course." She looked into the living room as well and leaned close to Kaley. "Good luck," she whispered.

"Thanks."

Naomi shepherded Lizzie out and Kaley looked at her son. "Ready to meet your new daddy, Duncan?" she asked him and shifted him a bit in her arms. Duncan stuck his tongue out at her and she smiled and stuck her tongue out too. Kaley carried Duncan into the living room where Oliver was still psyching himself up for the initial meet. "Oliver," she said softly. Oliver looked at her, he looked nervous. "This is Duncan. Can you say 'hi', Duncan?" she asked him then picked up his little hand and made him wave at Oliver.

"He's little," Oliver said.

"He's a baby," she said.

"I don't know why, but I was expecting him to be… older."

"What? Thought I'd gone and banged another guy as soon as you got on the plane? I have do have standards," she gave him a look. "Even if his father was at the  _very_  bottom of them." She got closer and sat down on the edge of the couch just in case Oliver did something. She didn't think he would but Oliver was still an Assassin. Still if he did anything to her son, she didn't care  _who_  the father was, she'd throw him the hell out of Willow Creek without even a look back.

Oliver reached over and touched Duncan with the gentlest of hands. Duncan smiled at him and smacked Kaley's arm. "He likes you," she said encouragingly. "What do you think?"

Oliver looked like he was trying to figure that out himself. "I mean," he looked at her, his dark eyes reserved and unsure. "I don't really get one and not the other do I?"

"Nope," she said.

He touched Duncan's face with his fingertips, poking his chubby cheeks. "He's fat," he said.

She snorted. "He's a  _baby_ , Oliver. Babies are fat. Healthy, happy, babies are fat. You ever seen a baby before?"

"Not… really," he admitted. "No one in my family has any babies, and I certainly don't."

"Not yet," she said and his head jerked up a little, surprised. "What?"

"What?"

"Well aren't we getting married?" she asked him. He nodded stupidly. "Then there will certainly be a baby or two in your future other than this lil fatty," she said and bounced Duncan a little making him hiccup.

Like it had never occurred to him till Kaley said that the storm clouds formed over Oliver's head cleared. "Oh," he said.

She laughed at him. "You're stupid," she told him.

"Lots of girls back in Europe either want no kids, or just one. I… never thought my wife would actually  _want_  more than one child out of duty," he admitted shyly.

"Girls are different in America," she said.

"Apparently," he said.

"So?"

Oliver looked down at Duncan who was making noises with his mouth. "I want one," he said and she laughed brightly at him. "I'll settle for this one till then I guess," he said in a sarcastic way. Kaley smiled and leaned over to kiss him happily.

—

Even when he got his way Troy wasn't happy about half the things Kaley did. She'd gotten married to the man he'd picked for her and was happy. He was very pleased his plans had gone through even with Andrew's mistake in the middle. He wasn't happy that Kaley lived in her own home now away from him. He had one of her brothers come by at least once a day to check up on her. He liked his son-in-law and his grandchildren but if he had it his way Kaley would still be living in his house where he could watch over her and fret and make sure she was up to the task she was born to do.

Secretly she knew Troy lived for the once a week dinner everyone had at the patriarch's house. Kaley, Naomi, and Hannah- Arlyn's wife- had come up with the idea so that Troy would stop meddling so much in his children's lives as much as he did. It was one day a week when everyone went over to Troy's and had dinner together. The children were brought along and for the moment Troy looked… happy.

Tonight was the get-together night and Kaley had to wrangle her children into some niceish clothes. Easier said than done with a six and an eight year old. She'd sent Oliver beforehand and when she went to check on them Oliver was just laying on the ground. "What are you doing?" she asked and all three of them looked at her guiltily. "I told you to get them dressed," she gave Oliver a look.

"They ganged up on me. What was I supposed to do?" Oliver bemoaned. Still lying basically face down on the floor.

Kaley gave her sons stern looks. They were sitting on Oliver's back innocently. "Boys, you know what today is."

"We don't wanna go," Fabian complained.

"You don't want to see your grandfather? He's getting old is going to die soon. You should be happy to see him."

"But mama," Fabian and Duncan complained in unison.

"I don't wanna play with Ryan. He's icky," Duncan said.

"Ryan is a nice young boy who appreciates seeing his grandfather," Kaley said giving her sons the stink eye. She walked into the room. "Get off your father," she shooed them off Oliver's corpse-like body.

He rolled over onto his back. "Phew! Thanks, Kay. I would have been a goner for sure," he said with a little grin.

She wasn't amused and put her hands on her hips looking down on them. "I'm going to walk out for a few minutes. When I come back all three of you should be ready to go to Troy's. If you aren't I'm going to be very unhappy. Understand me?"

"Yes mama," Duncan sighed.

"Good. Don't make me come back in here and see you not dressed. Listen to your father." She looked at Oliver. "Make sure they don't clash if nothing else."

"I make no promises," he said. She just gave them all a look and walked out, closing the door behind her. She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She didn't have to go back into the bedroom because they all came out in clean shirts and pants. Oliver had even brushed Duncan's hair. Fabian's hair was so straight and thin you didn't have to brush it, just pat it down, just like his father's. "There. Was that so hard?"

"I still don't wanna play with, Ryan," Duncan whined.

"Then you don't have to. You have eight cousins, Duncan. You can not play with one of them," she patted his head gently. Duncan just frowned but didn't say anything about it. "We all set?" she asked her boys.

"Yeah," Oliver said.

They arrived at Troy's house early but not before Eric and Naomi. Naomi was pregnant, again. Of the ten Miles children, Naomi was responsible for five of them. Kaley didn't know how she did it since she and Eric had only been married a few years longer than Kaley and Oliver. Kaley did want to have another kid but she wanted Fabian to get a bit older since she didn't want to deal with a very small child and an infant. Having an infant and a toddler had been nightmarish. She was pretty sure Oliver was  _still_  sorry about his… enthusiasm after they'd been married. Though if she'd been miserable dealing with two kids so close in age so had Oliver since she hadn't allowed him to just back seat parent. She didn't know how Naomi dealt with five kids all only a year or two apart. Kaley would have either killed one of them or Oliver.

Kaley put Fabian and Duncan in the living room with Lizzie, Josh, Lucas, and Hailey. Little baby Jessica was being coddled by Eric while he talked with Troy and John at the kitchen table. Oliver was also sitting there. Naomi was in the kitchen and Kaley joined her. John joined them shortly after to help them out. They'd throw him out once Hannah showed up with her three kids but for now they tolerated him. John liked helping in the kitchen because he liked hearing his sister and sister-in-laws gossip more than the men's gossip. So they had him deboning a few whole chickens, uncooked.

Everyone knew when Arlyn and Hannah arrived because Hannah was like a ball of sunshine and laughter. A rare thing for an Assassin. Kaley still thought she and Arlyn were a funny match since Arlyn was literally a dark rain cloud and miserable as could be if allowed to his own devices. Hannah dropped her kids off with the others and floated over to Kaley and Naomi in the kitchen to talk.

Not that the three of them didn't talk a lot as it was. They were all Miles. But dinners at Troy's was a special time to be as catty as they wanted. Normally they had to worry about one of their husbands overhearing or someone they didn't want to hear. Or heaven forbid one of the children and children were notorious for not being able to keep their mouths shut and secrets safe. But the weekly dinner it was just the three of them in the kitchen and once they'd used John for whatever manual labor they had for that night they did the second best thing Assassins were good at; talking shit and judging everyone else. Since they were part of the Miles clan they all had a lot to say about others in Willow Creek.

But John was still around so they just greeted each other warmly and puttered around doing things and speaking in broader terms and didn't say anyone's name. They knew John was listening even if he acted like he wasn't. Then he was done deboning the chickens and the women shooed him out so they could speak specifically. He went back to the dining room to sit with the other men.

"I swear he takes his time on purpose," Naomi said and rubbed her stomach a little.

"Oh, he does," Kaley said.

"He's got to know  _by now_  we aren't going to talk in front of him," Hannah tutted.

"He tries," Kaley said fondly.

"So I saw Heather and Beth out by the stables today," Hannah started.

"Yeah? So?" Naomi asked.

Hannah leaned across the kitchen to speak softly to them so no one could overhear. "They were  _kissing_."

"What?" Naomi gasped, scandalized.

"You're joking."

"No," Hannah said. "And not, 'oh this was an accident' sort of thing."

"Her daddy is gonna be  _so_  mad," Naomi said.

"If he finds out," Kaley piped in. Unlike the other women, she wasn't scandalized by two women kissing. John was gay and she'd caught him saying goodbye to his sweetheart a few times by accident and she swore she'd almost caught him in a bad situation a few times but had never seen it. He was always horribly embarrassed by it and she was a bit uncomfortable with it but she didn't think it was scandalous like her sisters-in-law.

"Right right," Hannah agreed. "I think we're the only ones who know."

"Well," Kaley said and changed the subject. "Did you see Jennifer's Raymond today?"

"No. What happened?" Naomi asked, the tale of two ladies making out already leaving her mind.

They chatted and cooked and from the living room they heard the kids playing. At least until it turned into not playing. "No! I don't wanna!" Kaley was out of the kitchen before Hannah had even stopped talking. The men were pausing in their own conversation but only Oliver leaned up and around to see what was going on since it had been Duncan to cry out. Kaley found Ryan on top of Duncan, pinning him to the floor. Ryan was Arlyn's twelve-year-old and more of a bully than Kaley had thought. "Get off!" Duncan shrieked.

Kaley marched over to Ryan and grabbed his ear, twisting and pulling it hard enough to make the kid scream. She pulled Ryan right off Duncan by the ear and had him standing in the living room on his tiptoes as Kaley held his ear up. Hannah came over, Arlyn wasn't even looking. He was the only man not rubbernecking to see what was going on. "What happened?" Hannah asked.

"We were just playing," Forest told his mother. "Really."

"Then  _why_  was Ryan pinning Duncan?" Kaley demanded.

"We were play fighting," Lizzie said helpfully.

Fabian was helping his big brother up and Duncan was crying. Ryan wasn't crying but tears were pouring down his cheeks all the same. "Did you ask Duncan if he wanted to play fight?" she asked Ryan. He nodded a little. "Did you really?" she twisted his ear hard and he yelped.

"I did!" Ryan cried.

"And what did Duncan say?" Hannah asked, hands on her hips. Ryan was stubbornly silent because he knew he was in trouble.

"I didn't wanna fight," Duncan sniffled and wiped his nose.

"He tackled Duncan," Fabian said, tattling immediately.

"Ryan," Hannah said sternly and her son looked at her with wet eyes. "You can let him go, Kay," she said. Kaley gave his ear another firm tug making him whine before letting him go. Ryan shrunk away immediately and rubbed his ear, looking at Hannah for comfort. "You apologize to Duncan right now, Ryan," she said.

"But ma. I didn't hurt him or nothing," Ryan sniveled, holding his ears, afraid Kaley would grab them.

"You were gonna!" Duncan cried.

"Was not!" Ryan yelled back.

"Ryan, you say you're sorry to your cousin right now," Hannah said sternly.

Ryan refused. "Ryan," Ryan looked up when Arlyn came up behind Hannah. "You say you're sorry." Ryan swallowed. He looked terrified of his father and Kaley wondered what Arlyn did at home. She did her best not to think about it. But she knew some Assassins raised their kids more in violence than others. On a small level she knew it was wrong but that was also just how things were. You were born and raised to fight and kill, violence happened. She didn't hit her children but she knew mothers who did.

Ryan looked at Duncan. "I'm sorry," he said.

Duncan just sniffed again. "No more play fighting," Hannah said and gave her son a stern look. Ryan nodded meekly.

Kaley kneeled in front of her son. "You okay, baby?" she asked him gently and wiped his eyes some more. He sniffed and nodded, putting on a brave face. "Did Ryan hit you?"

"No, mama," he said.

"Good," she said. "Why don't you go sit with your daddy for a bit, hmm? Do you want to stay with your cousins Fabian?" Both her sons nodded. She left Fabian there and walked Duncan over to the men's table. Arlyn still wasn't there and when she glanced back she saw Arlyn talking to Ryan off to the side.

"Well, that was exciting," Eric said, still holding little Jessica and was feeding her a bottle.

"You wanna sit with me?" Oliver asked Duncan who nodded mutely and Oliver pulled him into his lap.

"Next time, hit him back," Troy said.

"Dad, he's eight," Kaley hissed.

Troy gave Kaley and Duncan disapproving eyes. "If he wants to Miles he needs to learn to fight back sometime."

"He's  _eight_ ," she stressed again. Her brothers and husband said nothing. They didn't discuss the fact that Duncan was Kaley's bastard and knew that Troy's feelings towards Duncan were hostile by nature. He barely saw Duncan as a Miles even though his father wasn't around and Oliver had adopted him on top of that so he was a Miles twice over. It was on the very long list of things she and her father disagreed on. "Drink your beer," she said cooly and Troy glowered but didn't push the subject. Everyone else cowed away from the two of them. Kaley waited a few more seconds before going back into the kitchen.

"I'm  _so_ sorry," was the first thing Hannah said. "We've told him to be gentler with other kids. But he's too much like his father. He just… gets mad when others don't do what he says. I'm sorry, Kay."

"It's alright. It's something we all have to figure out ourselves, unfortunately," Kaley was equally apologetically. The Miles disposition to anger issues ran deep in the family despite Troy marrying such a mellow and woman like Bethany. Of course, there wasn't really 'gentle' for Assassins or he'd have found someone like that too. Naomi was probably the gentlest Assassin Kaley knew and put a knife in her hand and she knew how to fight and put a gun in her hand and her aim was perfect. Kaley and her brothers all had issues and had had to figure out how to reign in their explosive anger. Not easy when raised by a single father who  _also_  had explosive anger. But you figured it out. If you didn't you'd end up dead because anger for a field agent, where it could affect your decision making, was basically a death sentence.

"We'll work on it with him," Hannah said. "I never thought he'd…

"It's okay, Hannah," she assured her. "Duncan is a Miles, he can handle it." Hannah and Naomi exchanged looks and Kaley frowned at them. "He's a  _Miles_ ," she said again. "An outsider's blood doesn't somehow outweigh mine."

"Of course," Hanna said, trying to sound upbeat.

"So… while you ladies were dealing with the boys we almost lost the chicken," Naomi said. It gave them a much needed distraction. The conversation was forgotten, for the most part.

—

Later that night they were walking across Willow Creek. Oliver was carrying Fabian who was asleep on his shoulder. Duncan had run off ahead, not afraid of the dark and knew his way home. "Oliver," she said as they walked. Oliver 'hmmed'. "You don't hate Duncan, do you?"

"What?" Oliver looked at her in surprise. "No. Why would you think that?"

"Well, everyone else in my family thinks he's worthless. That somehow just because I had him out of wedlock that makes him any less than his cousins, or Fabian."

Oliver didn't say anything for a bit. "I think they just worry," he said. "I didn't know the man, thank God or I would have killed him  _first_ -

"And robbed me of the pleasure? Absolutely not," she said with a teasing smile.

"But outsiders are so…" he paused and shifted their son a bit in his arms. "They aren't like us, Kay. They try and try and try but in the end, they're just try hards. They don't  _get it_." Kaley nodded at that. "Means they're lesser, weaker,  _soft_. I think they know he's just like the other kids but there's a worry that maybe,  _maybe_ , he'll be weak."

Kaley frowned and they walked in silence. "Do you think he's weak?"

"I think he's eight," Oliver said. "And being cornered by your big cousin into play fighting is a good reason to scream for help. Especially Ryan."

They finished the walk to their home in silence and climbed the steps of their porch. Kaley went to open the door but before she opened it she looked at Oliver. "Do you wanna have another baby?"

Oliver's look of surprise was genuine. "Uh… do  _you_? I think that's a more fair question after-

"That was just some bad luck," she said. Even though she did want to wait until Fabian was older to have more kids they'd also held off because of the times she had ended up pregnant after Fabian. She'd miscarried three times, two in the first trimester, the third in the second.

Oliver looked at Fabian sleeping against his chest. "I'm okay with Fabian," he said. "Why? What's the matter?"

"You know why I'm my father's heir, right?" He nodded. Because of the Sight. Oliver didn't have it but his grandmother had. No one in his generation of her descendants had it and neither did his little nieces and nephews. It had passed over three generations of Oliver's family. "Fabian… when I'm running Willow Creek, and I'm leading the Miles clan, our son won't follow after me."

Oliver's brow furrowed. "You know already?"

"Duncan can use the Sight," she said, pained. "I've tried working with Fabian on it. He doesn't get. He can't do it." Oliver looked at their son. He sighed a little. "If I had another child who could use the Sight I could pick who I wanted to be my heir."

"But right now it's just Duncan, huh?" She nodded. He sighed again. "I mean… I don't hate when we try for kids," he smiled a little.

"You would say that," she said and poked him hard in the ribs.

"Troy know?"

"That Duncan can use the Sight, or that Fabian can't?"

"Either."

"No. I haven't told him. I don't need him getting his claws into our sons just yet." She stroked Fabian's head and brushed his bangs aside. "I want them to be children a little longer before he makes them like my brothers."

"Your brothers are respected, talented Assassins," Oliver said.

Kaley looked at Oliver. "They are. But my family isn't like yours, Oliver. We're monsters." Oliver wasn't intimidated. "Europeans love their subterfuge and spying. We're more hands-on in America. I don't want them to turn into Ryan just yet."

"Mama, daddy? Are you home yet?" Duncan called from inside.

"I think we should try for another kid," Oliver said. "We'll get lucky this time right?"

"Fourth time's the charm," she smiled a little at him and opened the door.

"Kinda excited," Oliver said as they walked into the house.

"Just keep it together," she said and tapped his chin.

"I make no promises," he smirked. She just rolled her eyes at him and went to find Duncan to get him ready for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like the story or excited about the update you should leave a comment. Even if to just say 'I love this story!' I appreciate all of them and let me know you appreciate me too.


	9. The Last of the Real Ones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of those Tinctures where just.. if I didn’t stop myself it could turn into 50k all on it’s own. There is an end I guess, but it also just kinda… ends. It made me happy tho. And you’ll recognize part of this Tincture from a Legacy.
> 
> I’ve also ben apparently been sitting on this since 2014. Jfc. I really need to learn to finish these damn things /SIGH

 

It was dark, and late, Everyone was sleeping, except Altair. But then Altair didn’t sleep much anyway. Most of the time he pretended to, to make others feel better, at least when he cared. For the past few years he’d cared a whole lot too. Meaning he ‘slept’ every time. If Ezio knew he’d probably clap since it was a long standing argument with them, about Altair’s sleeping habits.

No one locked their doors at the Farm. They trusted each other, and trusted their silence and secrecy to keep the Templars away. Had worked for the most part. Except they had a mole, they’d been here for years and Altair had been monitoring. There was no phone lines here. Information came in and out of the Farm via trucks, letters, and carrier pigeons like the old days. Johnathan had never left the farm, never sent letters and the birds were kept closely guarded because they all knew accidents happened. Nothing had happened yet, but Altair couldn’t risk it. Tonight was his last night here, and so too would be be Johnathan’s. He couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk him being that close to Desmond. Or to Duncan either, but Desmond was his main cause of worry. He hadn’t waited nine hundred years for some two bit Abstergo thug to bring the Templars here.

It was pitch black in the Miles’ household but Altair knew his way around. He’d spent many a night on that couch and stumbled sleepily through the darkness to the baby’s room. His feet took him there unthinkingly.

Desmond was asleep in his crib. Altair looked down at him with more than a bit of worry. He reminded himself he’d be watching him. From afar sure, but he would be. Desmond rolled over in his sleep, huffing and didn’t wake. Altair gently stroked the top of his head before seeing himself out.

Even though he was sure he’d been asleep when Altair opened the door to Duncan’s room the boy sat up in bed. “Melik,” he said.

Altair didn’t worry about being quiet now. Kaley was dead to the world, she took her antidepressants before bed, and when she woke up, and they made her drowsy. She tended to sleep all day. Andrew wasn’t home either. He was at the Holloway’s house across the compound. Jack Holloway was out on a mission to Montana and Sandy was lonely. So he didn’t feel uncertain as he turned the lights on.

“Why are you awake?” Altair asked.

“I had a nightmare,” he said and Altair believed him. Duncan had a lot of nightmares. “What are you doing here?”

Altair didn’t know if he should tell him. On one hand it’d be a perfect opportunity to give Duncan his duty. He knew the boy would do it anyway because he loved his brother, but if Altair told him to do it he’d really do it. On the other he hadn’t wanted to be seen by anyone before he did the deed. He didn’t like witnesses to his time before he killed someone.

“I’m leaving,” he said.

Duncan lurched out of bed, “What? You’re leaving?” he went over to Altair. “Why?”

“It’s time for me to go,” Altair said trying to let Duncan down gently.

“Take me with you,” Duncan said.

“I’m sorry Duncan, I can’t,” he said.

“Why not?” he asked, searching Altair’s face, looking scared. Then he hugged Altair around the waist, “Please don’t leave,” and it was like a punch to the gut. He put one hand around his shoulder, the other on his head. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. But its time for me to go,” and Altair had never felt so guilty. “Duncan,” he pulled Duncan off him and crouched in front of him. Duncan was crying openly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay.”

“Why not?” he asked, his throat hitching and working. “Did someone in the Farm tell you to leave? My daddy would let you stay.”

Altair smiled gently, “That isn’t it _ibn_ ,” he said gently, stroking Duncan’s hair. “I’m going to do something bad and everyone will be angry at me and they’d make me go away anyway. So I’m going before they get angry.”

“I’ll miss you though,” and Duncan hugged Altair. Altair hugged him back.

“I’ll miss you too _ibn_ ,” he said gently, stroking Duncan’s back. Then he pulled Duncan back. “I need you to do something for me. Okay?” Duncan nodded. “I need you to look after your brother.”

“I will,” Duncan said.

“I mean it. He’s going to need you, and the world’s going to need him. But without you he can’t do it.”

“W-why?” he asked, still crying, “What’s going to happen?”

“A storm is coming,” Altair said, “an end to a long war. Do you understand?” Duncan nodded slowly. “Good,” he kissed Duncan on the forehead.

“I still want to go with you,” Duncan hiccuped.

“I know,” Altair said. “But you belong here.”

Duncan shook his head, “No I don’t. Everyone’s so scared here, so mean and they hurt me. I don’t want to be here.”

Altair’s heart broke. But he couldn’t take Duncan with him. If he did Desmond would have no one and Desmond needed Duncan. “I’m sorry,” Altair said. “I can’t take you with me,” and he was cruel when he stood up and left the room, closing the door behind him and locking it, as both his and Desmond’s room locked from the outside. Andrew would find Duncan here in the morning when he didn’t show up for breakfast. The man might be an asshole, but he wasn’t an idiot. Duncan tried to open the door, twisting and yanking on the knob, but it didn’t give.

Altair left the house, swallowing back all his emotions. He was doing the right thing. He was doing the right thing.

Right?

He’d made he half way across the dark compound when he stopped walking.

“What am I doing?” he asked no one but himself. He looked back at the Miles’ household and then looked down. What _was_ he doing? He was condemning those boys to become what the Order had become. Secretive, scared, paranoid, and ruthless. Duncan, he knew, would never make it. He was too gentle, he loved too much too easily. The training would break him, destroy him. Altair swallowed. He wasn’t a monster.

He continued on to his objective though. The Smith’s lived here. Or they had. Mr. And Mrs. Smith were on a mission in Detroit that had lasted over a year. Their daughter stayed with the Fitzsimmons’. It was suspected they were dead, but unconfirmed. Johnathan stayed with the Smith’s.

All the doors opened when Altair went in. He couldn’t do what he’d been planning on doing. He had to do something else. Johnathan didn’t wake when Altair opened the door to the attic room and slipped inside. He held the man’s nose and mouth. The Templar didn’t even wake up while Altair suffocated him. He checked for a pulse, there was none, pulling him out of bed. He made the bed, and left everything as it should have been. Then he picked Johnathan up and left the house.

His next stop was the Miles’ house. Leaving Johnathan on the floor he grabbed linens from the closet, made up the couch into a bed like he’d been sleeping on it, got in it, threw the covers off and then started overturning furniture. He didn’t worry about waking Kaley. She wouldn’t wake, and there was enough space between the Miles’ house and the neighbor so no one heard a thing. He broke a vase, let a family photo drop off the wall, the glass breaking. He made it look like a struggle. He’d been a police officer often enough to know what one looked like. Last thing he did was cut Johnathan in the neck and laid him down on the floor and let a small puddle build up.

Once he was satisfied with how much blood there was he hefted the man up again, and with no mind to if blood was getting everywhere took him out to the wood pile. The Farm had a wood chipper half a mile from the compound. Altair dropped Johnathan and then started it up. A few people might wake, but no one would come to investigate.

Altair grimaced as he grabbed Johnathan and fed the body through the chipper. A spray of blood, bone fragments, and flesh flew out the other end. It made Altair nauseous, but now no one would know it hadn’t been him.

He walked back to the Miles’ house and changed his shirt before going to Duncan’s room.

He found the boy huddled in the corner, looking scared. Then he saw Altair. “Melik!” he cried and jumped up.

“Hey,” Altair said and walked into the room, he went to the closet and pulled out a bag, “pack clothes,” he said, pushing the bag into Duncan’s arms.

“What?” Duncan asked, eyes wide.

“You’re coming with me. Now pack, we need to leave as soon as possible. Understand?” Duncan nodded, “And don’t leave the room till I come get you,” again Duncan nodded. “Good,” and he left the room and went to Desmond’s.

The boy was awake and standing in his crib. “ _Baba_ ,” he said when he saw Altair.

“No Des,” Altair said, going over to him. “That’s Andrew.”

“Baaa baaaa,” and Altair realized he wasn’t saying a word. He was making the same noise as a sheep. Desmond liked animals. He ignored Desmond and found another bag. He shoved neatly folded clothes into them as well as trainers. Once the bag was full he went over to the crib and picked Desmond up and got him dressed. Thankfully it was still rather warm so he didn’t have to layer Desmond in coats. He’d buy him more clothes once they were gone. Then he picked Desmond up, and the bag, and went to Duncan’s room. Duncan was sitting on his bed, dressed and looking stressed out, but he was ready.

“Let’s go,” and Altair held his hand out for Duncan. Duncan leapt off the bed and grabbed Altair’s hand. Altair bent down and picked Duncan up too, thankfully he didn’t have to go far or it’d be a problem. Duncan was nearly too heavy. “Close your eyes,” he told Duncan, “and cover Desmond’s.”

“Why?” Duncan asked.

“Duncan-

“Okay,” and Duncan covered Desmond’s eyes and squeezed his closed. Altair walked down the hall and stepped in places that wouldn’t disturb the mess he’d so carefully made.

Then they were outside in the brisk, early fall, night of South Dakota. He put Duncan down. “Can I open my eyes now?” he asked.

“Yes,” and Duncan grabbed Altair’s hand as they walked across the compound to the car pool. He put Desmond in the back, and Duncan got to sit up front. Altair pulled out another set of keys he’d had made for this exact moment. He started up the truck and drove away and out of the Farm.

Altair didn’t talk, and Duncan seemed too stressed out still to ask a thousand questions. Both boys fell asleep by the time they got to Custer. Altair changed cars here, Desmond didn’t wake up when he picked him up and transferred him. Duncan climbed into the back with his brother, laid down and fell asleep. Altair put new plates on the car which had been sitting, covered, in a vacant lot since he’d brought it from Rapid City.

The drive south was long and quiet. There were no other cars on the road with Altair. Four hours later the sky was starting to pinken and they entered Cheyenne with the rest of rush hour traffic. The boys were both still asleep in the back.

Altair parked in downtown Cheyenne at a meter and got out. He pulled the plates off and threw it in a nearby garbage can. It’d be collected before the car got towed. He went over to the car window where Duncan was half awake and looking at him all bleary eyed. “I’ll be right back,” Altair said, opening the door so he could lock it and the driver’s side.

“Where are you doing?” Duncan asked, yawning.

“I need to get something. I’ll be right back chief,” and he closed the door. He went across the street to a bank that had literally just opened for the day and asked to see his safety deposit box. They took him to their vault and he pulled out his box and took the bag out from it. He thanked them and left.

Duncan was awake when he got back. “Melik-“ he started as Altair opened the door.

“Hungry?” Altair asked. Duncan looked at him then nodded. “C’mon, lets get some breakfast,” and Duncan got out. Altair woke Desmond gently and the boy latched onto him as he pulled Desmond out of the car with a grunt. He shouldered Desmond’s little bag and Duncan held onto his belt loops as they walked down the street to a little diner.

A woman fresh out of bed greeted them. They sat in a booth and she brought Desmond a booster seat. Altair ordered coffee and two chocolate milks just to get her to leave.

“Where are we?” Duncan asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Cheyenne,” Altair said, getting Desmond into his booster, the boy waking up quickly.

“What is this place?” Duncan looked around, “Who was that lady?”

“We’re in a restaurant, its where you can buy food. That lady was the waitress, you tell her what food you want and she brings it to you,” he said. “This is a menu,” he held it up for Duncan, “its a list of all the food you can order at a restaurant.”

“Oooooh,” Duncan said slowly, reading.

The waitress came back with the coffee and chocolate milks. Duncan had moved to the back of the booth, as far from the woman as he could get. Altair said they needed time to look at the menu. “What do you want to eat?” Altair asked Desmond. “Cereal? Eggs? Pancakes?”

“Pancakes!” Desmond cried and Altair shushed him.

“Okay pancakes. How about strawberry ones,” Desmond just made a face. “Chocolate chips ones?”

“Chocky Melmel, chocky,” Desmond said excitedly.

“Okay,” and Altair was glad the woman had brought Desmond’s milk in a cup with a lid and straw. He let Desmond suck on it and turned his attention to Duncan. “What about you?”

“I feel sick,” Duncan said and he did look kinda green.

“Do you need to throw up?” Altair asked and Duncan nodded. Altair got up and Duncan slid out of the bench. They went to the bathroom and Duncan threw up his dinner from last night into the toilet. Altair waited for him to finish.

“You’re okay,” Altair said gently, rubbing Duncan’s back as he washed his mouth out a few times and spit. “Its just some culture shock,” he said comfortingly.

“I’m hungry,” Duncan said weakly. They went back to the booth where Desmond had found the salt shaker and was getting it all over the table. Altair took everything at that end of the table and put it on his end, out of reach. “Can I have orange juice?” Duncan asked, having not touched his chocolate milk

“Of course,” Altair said. “What do you want to eat though?”

“Can I get anything?”

“Anything you want,” Altair said.

“I want the breakfast special,” he said.

Altair looked at what it was, “You sure you can eat all that?” Duncan nodded, “Okay.”

The waitress came back, Altair did the ordering since Duncan seemed intimidated by the woman. “Melik, where are we going?” Duncan asked. “What happened last night?”

“First,” Altair said, “my name isn’t Melik.” Duncan blinked. “My name is Altair. It’s important that you call me that from now on.”

“Why?” Duncan asked.

“Because Melik died last night. Does that make sense?” and Duncan nodded slowly. “I’ve basically kidnapped you both,” he said quietly.

“But I wanted to go,” Duncan was quick to say.

“I know,” Altair said. He rubbed his eyes. It was all fucked up.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to get on a plane,” Altair said, “And we’re going to New York. From there…” he trailed off when the waitress came back with Duncan’s orange juice, and water. “Drink the water first,” he ordered. Duncan did so, taking a few sips before drinking the juice. “We’ll figure it out when we get to New York,” he said.

“Okay.”

“I need to make a phone call. Will you be okay if I leave you here for a few minutes?” Duncan nodded. “Okay,” he downed half his coffee and rifled through his bag a moment, pulling a few stiff, new, dollars from a pack. He went and got them changed into quarters at the front counter and went outside to the pay phone next to the drug store next door. He thumbed the quarters into the machine and reminded himself to talk to Hawk about progressing on those ‘mobile phones’ he’d been tinkering with. Hawk insisted it was too early for the technology, but Altair might just push it further now. He had two small children to look after now.

He punched in the number he wanted and got the operator and asked for a long distance call. She told him the rates and he fed the machine more quarters. This was an expensive call, but important. The phone started ringing.

“Hello?” Ezio’s voice sounded over the other end, though he kinda sounded like he was talking through a tube. Altair had seen the future. He couldn’t wait for phone sound quality to not be absolute garbage. He had another sixty years on that at least though.

“Ezio, its Altair,” he said.

“Altair? Shit, what is it?” Altair only contacted Ezio when it was important.

“I… might have done something.”

Ezio cursed in Italian. “Okay, I give, what did you do?”

“I kidnapped two kids,” he said. There was silence on the other end. “This call is fucking expensive,” he snapped.

“You did _what_?” Ezio asked.

“The Miles boys. They’re… with me,” Altair said.

“Altair what were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Altair said. “But I have them.”

“Why are you calling me?”

The phone beeped, Altair fed it more quarters. “I need help,” he said. “You know I’m not good with the whole… loving, understanding, parenting thing.” Ezio sighed.

“Where are you?”

“Cheyenne, Wyoming,” he said. “I’m going to be heading for New York though.”

Ezio groaned in annoyance. “Okay. Fuck. Okay. You’re lucky you caught me here, I was about to go on vacation to Spain.”

“Yes, so lucky,” Altair said, slightly sarcastic.

“I will meet you in Spain,” Ezio said.

“Madrid?”

“Yeah,” Ezio said. “We’ll figure out what to do then. Should I contact Hawk?”

“Yes,” Altair said. “If he wants he can come too.”

“Okay.”

The phone starting beeping again, “Time’s running out on this thing. I’ll see you in Madrid.”

“I’ll get a car and a sign. It’ll say ‘idiot’ on it.”

“ _Bye_ Ezio,” and he hung up. The phone spit out a quarter for what he had left of his time. He took it and went back into the diner.

Desmond was eating the pancake with his hands. “Des, bud no that’s not how you do that,” he said and took the plate and cut it into bite sized pieces so now when Desmond used his hands he didn’t just jam as much as he could in his mouth.

Duncan was eating his breakfast quietly. Looking green again. “You feel okay?” Altair asked him.

“I feel sick still.”

“You need to throw up again?” Duncan shook his head, and then nodded. Altair went with Duncan to the bathroom where he threw up again. Altair took the plate once they got back to the table and asked the waitress to box it up, ‘his son’ wasn’t feeling very well. He ate his own breakfast quickly, it was just toast and some bacon. Flying always upset his stomach. “You better now?” Altair asked him and Duncan nodded shakily. “Okay.” Desmond was pushing the pancake bites around on his plate but wasn’t eating any more. He got the check, paid with cash and the three of them left.

Cheyenne was more awake now. Altair stopped a cab and the three of them got in, Desmond on his lap. They headed for the airport. “Where are we going?” Duncan asked again.

“Madrid,” Altair said, “its in Spain. A very long long ways away.”

“Oh. Why?”

“I have a friend there. He’s going to meet us,” Altair said, then put his fingers to his lips for quiet. Duncan nodded and they rode the rest of the way to just the morning talk show radio playing through grainy speakers.

They arrived at the airport, Altair paid and they went in, Altair carrying Desmond and his bag, Duncan had both his and Desmond’s bag. There weren’t long lines yet so after a few minutes of waiting he got up to the counter.

“Hello, how can I help you?” the man at the counter asked.

“I need two first class tickets to New York,” Altair said, hefting Desmond a little since the boy was not having it about being put down. The man leaned over the counter and looked down at Duncan who was looking all around in wonder. Altair grinned. “Its their first time in an airport,” Altair told him like it was a secret.

“Very exciting,” the man said, amused. “I need your ID please,” Altair dug it out of his wallet and handed it to the man. “Okay mister… Hasarian?” he asked.

“Yeap, that’s me,” Altair shifted Desmond in his arms a bit.

“Alright, will you be checking any bags today?”

“Yes, these two,” he put the boys’ bags up on the platform to be weighed.

“Alright,” the man entered some information into the computer. He told Altair the total and Altair used his credit card to pay. A moment later the tickets printed, “Here you are, sir,” he handed Altair two tickets. “Your flight is in half an hour.”

“Thank you,” he took them. “Which way?” he asked.

“Just go down that way,” he pointed to Altair’s right, “security is that way and you’re in gate B-twelve.”

“Thank you,” Altair said again and picked up his duffle. “Duncan, c’mon,” he said to get the kid’s attention. Duncan followed him quickly, once more holding onto his belt loop. They went to security and Altair handed the guard the tickets. He looked at them and directed them to a line. Altair put his bag on the conveyer and they all walked through the metal detector without a problem.

As they walked to their gate Duncan ended up being frozen in place by one of the shops. Altair looked back at him. “Duncan,” he said.

Duncan looked at him, “Can we go in?” he asked.

“Sure, but not too long,” Altair said and they went into the little convenience store.

Duncan looked through everything and while Altair was amusing Desmond with an overpriced stuffed dog Duncan sidled over. “Altair,” he said to get his attention.

“Yeah, chief?” Altair asked, Desmond was very taken with the stuffed dog.

“Can we get stuff?” he asked shyly.

“Like what?”

Duncan flushed a little, “Candy?”

Altair smiled gently, “Sure.”

“Really?” Duncan asked excitedly.

“Of course,” and Altair followed Duncan over to the wall of candy and snacks. Duncan didn’t seem to know which one he wanted though. “Get whatever you want,” he said.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Altair nodded.

Duncan didn’t know Altair well enough that when he said get whatever he wanted, he could really get whatever he wanted. Duncan picked three small bags of candy. Altair gave him a look and then picked out the same candy, but the bigger bag size. He had Duncan grab some drinks, and a few bags of chips, and when they went to the counter Altair picked one of each candy bar and several packs of gum along with the stuffed dog Desmond said was his now. The woman at the counter just commented that Duncan was so lucky to have such a nice father and Altair paid.

Junk food bought they went to their gate. They started boarding in fifteen minutes. He set both children down, despite Desmond’s whining and complaining. Duncan was looking at the snacks in the bag, trying to decide which one he wanted to try first. “D,” Altair said and Duncan’s head snapped up. “I’m going right over there,” he pointed to a pay phone. “Share with your brother.”

“Okay,” Duncan said cheerfully and Altair went to the phone. He put his back to the wall so he could keep an eye on the boys.

He called long distance again to New York. A man with a thick New York accent picked up. “Hello?”

“Hello, I’d like to speak to Johnny please.”

“Sure thing,” and the phone was put down, then picked back up.

“Hello?” Johnny had no accent at all. He was third generation American from Ireland and Altair’s friend. Sort of. Business partner really. He ran Altair’s business in New York City. He didn’t know Altair was immortal, but he was a good guy anyway and Altair trusted him with his real name. He also got Altair anything he needed.

“Johnny, its Altair,” he said.

“Altair, hello. It isn’t the quarterly review, what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need my plane prepped, and a pilot ready.”

“Of course. What’s the destination today?”

“Madrid. I want Henry, can I get him?”

“Maybe. He just got back from a flight to L.A. and is sleeping it off, but I’ll make sure he’s here for you.”

“Thank you. I’m currently flying in from Cheyenne. So I’ll be a few hours.”

“You got it.”

“I also have two small boys with me age three and eleven. They don’t exist,” Johnny also knew Altair was… strange. “I don’t want them on any of the flight itinerary. I also need a passport for the older one.”

“I’ll have one drawn up,” that was the thing when you were as secretly rich and powerful as Altair. You needed a passport in five hours? You got one. “Will you need a visa?”

“No,” Altair said. Altair would just get a Spanish passport for him and Duncan if he needed once he got there.

“Anything else?”

“If I think of it I’ll let you know.”

“Very well. I’ll have a driver pick you up at the airport.”

“Thank you,” Altair said.

“No trouble at all Altair. Least I could do after what you’ve done for me. I do have one more questions. These boys. Who are they? Are you doing something bad?”

Altair looked at the boys, Duncan was feeding Desmond pieces of gummy worms. Duncan looked kinda freaked out, but he knew it’d pass. He didn’t look scared though, or afraid. “No,” Altair said, “they’re my boys.”

“You have children?” Johnny asked. “I didn’t know that.”

Altair knew there was nothing else for it. “Lot of things you don’t know about me Johnny.” The speakers cracked on, saying their flight would start boarding soon. “I gotta go, plane’s boarding.

“Alright. Goodbye Altair.”

“Goodbye,” and he hung up and went back over to the boys. He crouched down in front of them. “Do either of you have to go to the bathroom before we get on the plane?” he asked.

Duncan looked thoughtful, then nodded. Altair took the two of them to the bathroom. He made Desmond go and changed his pull-ups since he’d wet himself a bit on the drive to Cheyenne. Desmond chatted at him the entire time. They washed their hands and by the time they were done it was time to board. Altair had their tickets ready and the three of them boarded. He told Duncan to sit in the window seat. He put his bag in the overhead. Desmond had climbed into Duncan’s lap by the time he was sitting again and had his face pressed up against the window.

The plane boarded, the flight attendant went over the safety procedure and everyone buckled in. Altair made the boys chew gum as they backed out of the terminal area and went out to the runway. It was still early, there weren’t that many flights out yet so they got to the runway quickly. Altair pulled Desmond into his lap as they took out and Duncan had his face pressed to the window. Once they were off the ground Altair let Desmond cram his face next to his brother’s. There were oooos and aaahs from the window for at least half an hour as they marveled at flying. Then Desmond climbed back into Altair’s lap.

Altair just sat there for the first time really in about six hours able to really sit back and realize what the fuck he’d just done. It wasn’t normal for him to be this impulsive. But he’d just… taken these two kids with him on a whim. Guilt curdled his breakfast and coffee. Did Cain feel like this when he took him in in Cairo? He looked at the boys, Duncan was still looking out the window, Desmond was digging in their bag of snacks. Did Cain ever wonder if he’d done the right thing? Altair suddenly missed Cain terribly. He was so sure it was better if he’d left the boys there, but now here they were.

“Altair,” Duncan said and Altair jolted realizing he’d been sitting there, lost in his own thoughts for quite a while.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking at the boy.

“How long are we going to be up here?”

“A few hours,” Altair said.

“Really?” Altair nodded. “Wow,” he looked back out the window.

The boys entertained themselves for the most part. Altair told then a few stories, true stories at that, and that carried them through the rest of the flight. He’d have to get them some toys or something for the flight across the Atlantic. Or maybe just show movies. He needed a nap. Normally he would be fine but the entire night had been stressful and he just needed to be passed out.

Finally though they landed in JFK and Altair got his bag and grabbed Desmond up in one arm and left the plane, Duncan carrying along behind him. Duncan and Desmond had eaten what had been left of Duncan’s breakfast on the flight and about half of the junk food and all the drinks. Once they’d gone to the bathroom they went down to the luggage pickup for the boys’ bags and Altair found their driver.

“Mr. West?” they asked when he approached.

“Yeap, that’s me,” and he ignored Duncan’s stare.

“Right this way, sir, the car’s just outside,” and they followed the man to the car, a nice sedan with the windows rolled down. They loaded in and the car took off.

“This car have a phone?” Altair asked his driver.

“Yes, sir,” and the man took a corded phone out of the center counsel and handed it back to him.

He dialed Johnny again. “What can I do for you now?” Johnny asked.

“The plane ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good— Des no don’t lean out the window like that,” he pulled Desmond’s arm and head safely back into the car. They weren’t moving very fast but if anything happened to Desmond Altair might actually destroy… well, a lot of things. Anything happening to Desmond was bad, horrible even. “I need some kids movies added to the plane’s library.”

“Of course. I’ll have some other things brought as well.”

“Thank you,” Altair said.

“Not a problem at all. Enjoy your flight, Altair,” he said.

“I will,” and he hung up.

“Who was that?” Duncan asked.

“My friend, his name is Johnny.”

“Is that your friend we’re going to meet?”

“No,” Altair said. “We’re going to another plane and going to Spain.”

“Why?” Altair looked at Duncan, put his finger to his lips and pointed at the driver. Duncan nodded in understanding.

The boys spent most of the drive to the private air strip heads nearly out of the window. Then they arrived at the little airport where one of Altair’s private jets was sitting on the tarmac waiting. Altair had several private jets. Helped when you were richer than god. He literally owned bars of gold just to make it manageable and he only trusted digital money so much, unlike Hawk who had most of his money in electronic networks. Altair and Ezio were old school though, they liked their wealth in _stuff_ like jewels and gold.

“Smaller plane,” Desmond said, pointing at the jet.

“That’s right,” Altair said, squeezing him a little bit.

“Like big plane.”

“After you, chief,” Altair said motioning to Duncan who started up the stairs.

Altair poked his head into the cockpit as he let Desmond down. “We’re here. Everything all set?”

“Yessir, just waiting for you to arrive before we took off. Shall I get the door or do you got it?”

“I got it,” and Altair closed the door as the stairs were taken away. Desmond and Duncan were busy exploring the cabin as Altair sealed it up. “Boys,” he said and they both looked at him. “Sit down until we take off,” he ordered, putting his bag up and away from their hands. Duncan sat in one of the chairs and Altair kept Desmond with him though the boy was _not_ having it.

They took off quickly at least and once they were level Altair released Desmond to go back and explore. Duncan also got up and came and sat across from him. “Hey,” Altair said, “How you feeling?”

“Better,” Duncan said. “Why did that man call you Mr. West?”

Altair took a deep breath before leaning forward. “So this is the thing, Duncan,” he said slowly, thinking as he spoke. “I have a lot of names. It’s normal for someone in my line of work. So when someone calls me something not by my name, you can’t act surprised.”

“What is your name?”

“Altair. That is the name my father gave me and the only one you need to worry about. Who Mr. West is or any of my other alias’ are aren’t important.”

“Is he different than Altair?”

“Yes.”

“Is Altair different then Melik?” and Altair was surprised by the depth of that question.

He got out of his chair and took a knee in front of Duncan. “Altair is a bit more secretive,” Altair said, “and rich,” he said like an afterthought. “But he’s not that different from Melik. He still tells stories and skips rocks and goes horseback riding and climbs trees and sings your brother to sleep,” he said, “And he cares a lot about the both of you.”

Duncan hugged him, wrapping his little arms around Altair’s neck and shoulders. Altair hugged him back. “Why are we going to Spain?” Duncan asked, still hugging him.

“We’re going to see my friend Ezio. Mainly though we’re getting out of America.”

“Why?”

“Because your family won’t like that I took you away. Your dad is probably looking for you right now. He could find you and take you back home,” Duncan squeezed him harder, “and I know you don’t want that,” Duncan shook his head against his shoulder. He let go of Duncan but kept his hands on his shoulders. “Now I know you’re going to have a _lot_ of questions and there’s going to be a lot of confusing things going on the next few days. But I need you to keep it together, can you do that?” Duncan nodded. “We’re going to be around a lot of people,” and Duncan swallowed. “When you feel uncomfortable you can just tell me, and we’ll leave.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Altair said. “Its also very _very_ important that you tell me what you want or need. If you want something, just ask me, and you can probably have it.”

“Really?” Duncan asked again.

“Yes,” Altair said. “I’m not like your dad Duncan. You’re not soldier in training. I want you to have things. So if you want it _tell me_.”

“Okay,” Duncan said. Altair could tell that the idea of getting things he wanted would take Duncan a while to come around to.

“Now, Johnny had some stuff brought in for you and Des to play with,” Altair said. Des had already found a box that had had Lego in them and spilled them all over the cabin floor. “And I was going to put on a movie.”

“What’s a movie?” Duncan asked.

Altair smiled, “I’ll show you,” and he got up and went to the VCR that was connected to a television. He picked up the Little Mermaid case and put the tape in and turned on the TV. The boys were instantly drawn to the sound and the fact that things were moving on screen. “Come see,” he beckoned to Duncan and the boy came over. He showed Duncan how to work the VCR and showed him where the movies were and said he could watch whichever ones he wanted. Then the movie was starting and Duncan quickly went and sat with Desmond in front of the TV, their eyes glued to the machine.

Altair smiled a little and went around closing all the window shades and dimming the lights. Then he went and sat down. He ended up falling asleep somewhere around the time Ariel got her legs. He hated he dreamt of Cain.

It took a lot of self control to not grab the hand poking him awake and snap it when he woke. He remembered enough that there was no one on the plane with him but two small children. So he woke with a start, but not with violence. Desmond and Duncan were standing in front of him, looking at him. “Yeah?” he asked groggily, sitting up.

“We’re hungry,” Duncan said.

“Right, right,” and Altair got up with a grunt.

“Melmel,” Desmond reached up for him. Altair just took his hand but didn’t carry him. “Melmel, Melmel,” he said over and over again, until Altair did just pick Desmond up to make him be quiet. Altair showed them where the in flight pantry was and microwaved them lunch.

Once fed the boys went back to watching movies. Or rather one movie. They just kept rewatching The Little Mermaid and by the time they’d landed in Madrid Altair definitely _knew_ the story of The Little Mermaid. He was so glad when he could turn the TV off and grab his stuff and get off the plane with the boys. Desmond was asleep by now, and Duncan seemed too wired to sleep. Henry would deal with the plane and fly it back to America once he’d slept.

There was a car waiting for them on the private runway. Ezio was standing inside the open driver’s side door. “Finally made it,” he said.

“Planes are pretty slow,” Altair said.

“Yeah,” Ezio agreed sarcastically and came around the car as Henry put the boys’ and Altair’s bags into the trunk of the car. “This them?” he asked. Duncan was sort of staying behind Altair.

“Yeah. This is Duncan,” Altair put his hand on Duncan’s head. “And this is Desmond,” he patted Desmond’s back where he clung, sleeping, to Altair’s chest.

“That him then?” Ezio asked, looking at Desmond.

“Yeah.”

“Oftly small,” Ezio grinned, Altair just rolled his eyes. Ezio turned to Duncan and then crouched down, “Hey Duncan. I’m Ezio,” and he offered Duncan his hand. Duncan shook his shyly. “You have a fun plane ride?”

“We watched The Little Mermaid,” Duncan said. Ezio laughed.

“They watched it thirteen times,” Altair groaned and Ezio laughed harder.

“I got us a hotel room,” Ezio said standing again. “You all could probably use some rest, sleep off that jet lag. Then I have a feeling its gonna be a long conversation,” Ezio looked down at Duncan again.

“Yeah,” Altair agreed.

“C’mon, lets go and get you settled. There’s a car seat in the back for the hero,” Ezio teased, getting into the driver’s seat.

“Thanks Henry,” Altair told their pilot. “Just take the plane back to Johnny and get some rest.”

“You got it Mr. West, pleasure flying with you.” Altair just grinned a little and put Desmond in his car seat as Henry went back up into the plane to take it to a hanger. Desmond was out like a light though and didn’t wake when Altair strapped him in. Duncan sat next to his brother.

Altair got into the passenger’s seat and Ezio started the car up. “ _Any reason why you’re doing this_?” Ezio asked him in Italian.

 _“Doing what_?”

_“Taking them.”_

_“I… I couldn’t just leave them. I couldn’t leave them with that man. I’m not a monster_.”

 _“So what are you going to do with them_?”

Altair looked back at them. Desmond was drooling on himself a bit and Duncan was looking out the window as they entered the city. He looked right way around again. _“I’m going to keep them.”_

_“Adopt them?”_

_“If I have to. At the least keep them out of the hands of the Assassins.”_

_“You can do that?”_

_“I can.”_

_“They’re a Master’s kids and Miles children. You think he’ll just let them go? Not to mention if your complaining from their mother means anything their granddad is a peiiiice of work.”_

_“No. But he’ll never find them. Neither of them. They’re safe with me now. I won’t let anything happen to them._ ”

Ezio said nothing to that, he just continued to drive. They arrived at a high scale hotel. Ezio got their bags and Altair got the boys. Altair and the boys had a room to themselves. Duncan changed into his pajamas before crawling into the bed. Altair changed Desmond before taking him with him. He didn’t sleep but laid down with Desmond and dozed. At some point Duncan got up and came to sleep with him.

Night slowly gave way to dawn and morning. Breakfast was brought to their door along with Ezio who saw himself right in.

“You boys hungry?” Ezio asked once they were all awake.

“Yeah,” Duncan said in a soft voice, sitting next to Altair at the little hotel table. Altair fed Desmond some fruit and cereal before he wanted to go explore. So he let him. Then it was just the three of them.

“So now what?” Ezio asked Altair.

“I don’t know,” they both turned and looked at Duncan who noticed and hunched, hating being the center of attention. “We need a place to live.”

“I have that place in Greece,” Ezio said.

“No,” Altair shook his head. “I think we’ll stay here, or maybe move to France.”

“Assassin population is too big in France,” Ezio said, “they’d find you.” Altair hummed a bit, seeing that wisdom if nothing else. France and Italy had the largest Assassin groups in Europe. Ezio might have done a lot of things poorly when he was mortal, but he’d been fairly charismatic for an Assassin, rare for assassins which bred introverts and those who spoke little, and he’d done something few Mentors after him had been able do. He’d created an Order with hundreds of people. Most enclaves were small, a few dozen at most. But the Italian enclave during Ezio’s time had been in the hundreds. A literal army.

“Altair,” Duncan said, softly. What was that about breeding introverts?

“Yeah?”

“What’s going to happen?”

“Well,” Altair said slowly. “I suppose you’ll live with me.”

“What about our parents?”

“Do you want to see them?” After a moment Duncan shook his head. “Then you won’t.” Altair rubbed his face, “I guess, I need to buy a house get you two settled down.”

“Lot of shopping,” Ezio said.

“Yeah,” Altair sighed, he didn’t like shopping. “Furniture and clothes and appliances and toys-

“Toys?” Duncan cut in, looking at Altair with wide eyes.

Altair grinned, “Yeah kid; toys,” he looked back at Ezio, “he’s going to have culture shock,” he said. “I don’t even know how I’m going to deal with this,” he sighed and felt himself getting a headache from worry. It wasn’t just culture shock. Duncan had lived in a box his entire life. Now he wasn’t going to be in a box and Altair knew it could be scary. Some times, after he spent a few years in isolation, or after he’d trained with monks; living in a box, coming back out into the world was scary and overwhelming. As it was Duncan didn’t trust anyone but him, and didn’t know basic things like restaurants or grocery stores or in general really how stores worked. He’d seen the confusion on the kid’s face when Altair had bought all that junk food for him at the airport.

“He’ll be okay,” Ezio said. “You going to tell him?”

“Tell him?”

“You know,” Ezio gave him a look.

Altair looked down at Duncan, who was pushing food around on his plate, “Not now. I don’t need to freak him out like that,” he frowned.

“You ever going to?”

“Maybe,” Altair said with a drawn face, “but not for a while.”

“Tell me what?” Duncan asked.

“A secret,” Altair said. “One you’re not ready for.”

“Cause I’m not old enough?” kid wasn’t dumb even in the slightest. Duncan always had that ‘problem’ at the Farm. Asked too many questions.

“No,” Altair said, “You just aren’t ready for it, and neither are we,” he said, looking at Ezio.

“Oh.”

“I will though, I promise. But not yet,” Altair said. Duncan nodded. “Now, where are we going to live?” he asked both himself and the kid.

“If you want to live in Spain Madrid is a great city,” Ezio put in.

“Too big. Assassins have missions here too often.”

“True. You could go to Germany,” Ezio said, “or the Netherlands. Assassins don’t ever go to the Netherlands.” Because there was nothing to do in the Netherlands. As far as it went the Netherlands was a well off country and didn’t need Assassin intervention. The boys would have to learn Dutch, and probably some French and German, but they’d manage. As it was they both already spoke English and Arabic, and children learning languages when they already knew two was easier. They could handle Dutch, some French and German.

“I like that idea,” Altair said. “What do you think Duncan, live in the Netherlands?”

“I think it sounds fine,” Duncan said and Altair chuckled. The boy didn’t even know what he was agreeing to, had no concept of what the Netherlands even were.

“Okay. So that’s the plan. Buy a house in Holland, see what happens from there,” Altair said.

“Flimsy plan,” Ezio said mildly, taking a sip of coffee.

“I’ve had worse.”

“Oh, I _know_ ,” Ezio said with a raise of his eyebrows. Altair scowled at him and Ezio just smiled into his cup.

—

After an insane month the house finally looked like it was lived in. Or at least people lived there. It’d be a while yet until it looked _lived_ in. There were beds and toys and televisions and a fridge and cupboards full of food, a comfortable couch and plenty of room. Desmond had assimilated quickly but Duncan walked around like if he touched something he’d get yelled at. Altair was breaking him of the habit slowly. It’d take time and probably a good amount of social interactions outside of himself and Ezio. Hawk hadn’t come by yet. He thought Altair was an idiot and wouldn’t play his games with him.

Desmond slept in his own room about half the time. Altair always put him to bed in his crib and most nights he stayed there. Other nights, like tonight, he didn’t. Altair sat forward a bit from where he was leaning back in his bed reading a book when noises came over the baby monitor. He heard complaining noises. He’d become hyper sensitive to those noises since Desmond had been born and he was the one around to make sure the little boy didn’t die from neglect.

“Mel-meeel,” he heard Desmond whine through the monitor and got out of bed going across the hall to Desmond’s room. He looked down into Desmond’s crib. “Mel-mel,” he whined again and pulled himself to his feet using the bars.

“What is it Des?” Altair asked.

“Bad dream,” he said.

“Oh no, not bad dreams,” and Desmond nodded. “C’mere,” and Desmond wrapped his arms around Altair’s neck when Altair lifted him up and held him. “They’re just dreams, they can’t hurt you _ibn_ ,” he said gently.

“They’re scary,” he said, head buried in Altair’s shoulder.

“I know,” Altair rubbed Desmond’s back gently. “What was the dream?”

“There were big people,” he said, “they were looking at me.”

“Heh. That’s all? That doesn’t sound very scary,” Desmond just whined and tightened his arms on Altair’s neck. “Its okay,” he continued to rub Desmond’s back. “Want to come sleep in my bed?” Desmond nodded. “Okay, you can,” and he carried the toddler back to his room and laid Desmond on his bed. Altair turned off his bedside lamp and laid down with Desmond but didn’t sleep. He stroked Desmond’s back until he fell asleep and once he did Altair sat up again and turned on the light, going back to his book. He moved his free hand to gently stroking Desmond’s head and the boy didn’t wake up the rest of the night.

He read until the sun rose before closing his eyes for a little bit before Duncan woke up. The kid was like a bird, up and down with the sun. He was getting used to sleeping in but still got up early. Altair could appreciate that. He was up early too. Around seven there was a soft knock on the door and Altair opened his eyes. He took Desmond with him when he went to get the door. Duncan was standing there in his pajamas.

“Morning chief,” Altair said and gave his hair a fond ruffle.

“Ah! Altair,” Duncan protested and forced his hair down again. Altair just smiled and went to the kitchen. Duncan had gotten used to calling Altair by his real name pretty easily but still reverted to ‘Mel’ now and then when they were out and about and was starting to get stressed out by all the people or things. “Morning!” he called and followed after Altair.

“Shhh, your brother’s sleeping,” he scolded gently. Duncan pursed his lips.

“But he sleeps all the time,” Duncan complained.

“He’s a baby, they sleep _all_ the time,” Altair said.

“Sleeps and poops,” Duncan said.

“Uh-huh,” Altair agreed. Desmond grumbled against his shoulder, drooling a bit. Fantastic.

“What was he doing in your room?”

“Bad dreams,” Altair said, rubbing Desmond’s back and put him down on the couch. He gave Desmond one of the twenty stuffed animals Altair had bought for him and he was content to cuddle that. Altair was such a sucker honestly. All Desmond had to do was point or make a grabby motion and he’d get Desmond a new toy. He was getting soft.

“Desmond got to sleep with you cause he had bad dreams?” Duncan asked, standing in the kitchen, knowing Altair would make breakfast.

“Yes, of course,” Altair said. “Why?” he asked Duncan. Duncan was hesitant. “Do you have bad dreams too?” he asked Duncan when he came over. Again Duncan hesitated, then he nodded as well. “What sort?”

“I’m in a dark room and there are tall, dark, people standing over and around me. They’re all looking down at me, judging me. They have yellow eyes. Sometimes they say things to me.”

“What sort of things?” Altair asked with genuine concern.

“Mean things. Things dad- Andrew used to say to me. That I’m weak. That they don’t need me. That I ruin everything.”

Altair knelt in front of Duncan. “They’re just dreams chief,” he promised. “Deep down you think those things. But they and you, are wrong. You’re not weak, you don’t ruin everything. You have value, understand?” Duncan nodded, his eyes wide and sad. Altair hugged him. “You have any other bad dreams?”

“Sometimes,” Duncan said as Altair let go and stood up to make breakfast. He hated cooking. He could do it just fine. He was nine hundred fucking years old. Cooking just reminded him of better times in his life. It reminded him of Cain. Cain was the cooker of the two of them. He loved to cook, loved to make Altair’s favorites and always looked so pleased when Altair told him his food was delicious. Cain liked baking too. Baking and cooking and making things. Two hundred years and some and it still hurt to do things that reminded him of Cain, like cooking. It was why he usually went out, or had others do it. When asked he’d just say he couldn’t cook, or he was terrible, or he burned it or was a safety hazard.

“Like what?” Altair asked, opening the fridge. “Pancakes, or waffles?” he asked Duncan.

“Waffles,” Duncan said. Altair took out the waffle iron. "I sometimes dream of dying." Altair stopped and looked at him, "and Desmond dying. They scare me."

"What else?"

"Once I dreamed of mom. But she didn't act or sound like mom. She said things that scared me."

"Like what?"

"I don't remember. It was when Desmond was born. But I remember waking up and crying."

"And it was Kaley?"

"It just looked like her," he said. "But it didn't sound like her or act like her."

"You have these dreams often?" Duncan shook his head and then nodded. "Well which is it?"

"About once a week."

Altair blinked, "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked and might have been a bit harsh because Duncan shied away a bit.

"I didn't think it was important. Andrew said it wasn't."

"I'm not Andrew," Altair said, not for the first time. "If you're having nightmares I care. Understand?" Duncan nodded and looked about to cry. "Don't cry chief. I'm not mad at you and you didn't do anything wrong," Altair promised gently. Duncan sniffed and nodded. "Come help me with the waffles," he beckoned and Duncan came over to the counter with him. Altair gave him a one armed hug and Duncan wrapped his arms around his waist a moment before letting go. Desmond woke a bit later when he smelled breakfast and announced loudly that he was both awake and hungry.

—

Not till Duncan was a bit older did he really appreciate how much children ate. Duncan was starting puberty and he just ate everything in sight. And Altair exercised with him and Desmond every day so they both stayed active and work out that energy. At five Desmond could already run laps around Altair, and Duncan was weirdly into pull ups. Probably because of the TV shows he watched.

Twice a week Altair went into town a few miles away and got groceries. He'd go longer between if he could get away with it but Duncan would give him the biggest most pathetic puppy dog eyes and he'd go. He'd gotten so soft in the past three years it was completely ridiculous.

Ezio dropped by often. He liked playing with Desmond and would watch the boys if Altair had to go out. He had to leave every few weeks to go deal with one of his business ventures, quarterly reviews and investment deals, that sort of things, and Ezio always volunteered to watch the boys for the few days he was gone. Today he was watching them while Altair had gone to get groceries. When he opened the door he found Ezio and the boys sitting in front of the TV, totally entranced by the new toy Ezio had brought over from America. It was called the Super Nintendo Entertainment System. Ezio said SNES for short but that was a mouthful too and it was a video game. Altair didn’t understand it. He was way too old for that but Ezio was into it. Hawk was too.

“I’m home,” he announced, closing the door with his foot.

“Hi,” he heard three half dead voices say from where they were sitting in front of the TV. They were playing some fighting magic game or something. That was all Altair knew. None of them had moved from where they’d been sitting when he’d left to go to the store.

Altair looked at the three of them then shook his head a little and went into the kitchen. He paused at seeing someone at the coffee machine. “Hello?” he asked.

Hawk turned around, “There you are. Where’s your coffee?” he asked.

“What did you do?” Altair asked, giving Hawk a look. Hawk had shaved all the hair on his head off including eyebrow hair. He looked like a brown egg.

“Some instruments I’m working with needed better conductivity to my body. I found the best results from no follicle interference,” he said.

“You know that eyebrows take like a month and a half to grow back, right?” Altair asked.

“And?” Hawk asked, unfazed.

“Okay. Whatever,” Altair said and put the bags on the counter. “Coffee’s in the left cupboard,” he added.

“Oh good,” and Hawk turned around and got the coffee.

“What are you here for?”

“Stopping by. I’m on my way to Dubai to see Venus, figured I’d make a pit stop. That and I wanted to take a detour to Amsterdam,” he said.

“So I’m your drug pitstop,” Altair said, unpacking the bags and putting the groceries in the fridge and pantry.

“Well I already got them. So you’re my pitstop before I head to the train station and catch a train to Berlin to get on a plane to Dubai,” Hawk said as he helped himself to Altair’s coffee.

“When’s that?”

“Tomorrow,” Hawk said.

“Of course,” Altair said.

“What? I haven’t seen you in like fifteen years. I figured you’d be happy to see me.”

“No offense Hawk, but I’ve got two kids in the house and you show up with a shaved head and face. You’re not exactly top of the want to see list,” Altair said blandly.

Hawk paused, “I didn’t think of that,” he admitted.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Oh well. I’m here now. I leave first thing in the morning though.”

“I assume you want to crash on the couch.”

“If I go to sleep, yeah,” Hawk said.

Altair sighed and looked down where he felt a tug on his shirt hem. Desmond was standing there. He said something but it was too quiet. “What?” Altair asked and leaned down to hear.

“Tell Ezio to let me have a turn, _baba_ ,” Desmond whined.

Altair blinked at him. “Desmond,” he said slowly, “why did you call me that?”

Desmond looked up at him innocently, “Aren’t you?” he asked, not understanding.

“Uhhh.” He certainly hadn’t set out to be. He looked over at Hawk but Hawk hadn’t heard Desmond. Wasn’t he? He supposed he was. A better one than Andrew if nothing else. Wouldn’t be the first set of kids he hadn’t sired who’d called him father either. Normally he wouldn’t be weird about it but it was just that fact that they were the Miles boys and that Desmond was, basically, the chosen one. How the hell was he the father of the chosen one? Even if it was only by choice and not blood. Yet, here he was. “Yeah, I guess so,” he agreed after a moment of silence.

“Tell Ezio to let me have a turn,” Desmond said again.

“Okay,” Altair said, feeling sort of like he was in a daze and went with Desmond back to where Duncan and Ezio were sitting, eyes glued to the television. He could tell right now that this wasn’t going to be acceptable. He didn’t need Duncan addicted to this, whatever it was. “How long have you been playing?” he asked. Ezio and Duncan didn’t appear to hear. He gave Ezio a light kick with his foot and put his hand on Duncan’s head, turning it up to him. He repeated the question when they were both looking at him.

“We started after breakfast,” Ezio said, blinking a lot to moisten his dry eyes.

“That was like seven hours ago,” Altair said.

“Yeah,” Ezio said slowly.

“You’re going to let Desmond play for an hour and then it’s getting turned off.”

“What? But Altair-

“Its getting turned off,” Altair told Duncan firmly. “You can play more tomorrow. But you need to work in your workbook and its going to be dinner soon. Now give the controller to your brother.” Duncan sulked even as he handed the controller to Desmond to took it happily and crawled into Ezio’s lap. “One hour,” he added.

“You got it Altair,” Ezio said.

“I mean it. I will just turn off the breaker for this part of the house if you don’t,” he threatened and Ezio paled a little.

“One hour,” Ezio promised.

Altair nodded and when he made it back to Hawk he sighed. “What’s with that?”

“With what?” Hawk was drinking coffee now. Knowing Hawk it was about half sugar.

“That game. Please tell me its a fad like soda fountains.”

“Nope,” Hawk said with a smug grin. “In twenty years they’re the biggest entertainment industry in the world. I’ve already got money in a couple of companies. You should too.”

“I don’t need more investments. I’ve got them up to my eyeballs.”

“Just saying,” Hawk said shrugging.

They stood looking at each other for a few minutes in silence before Altair broke it. "No reprimands?"

"It wouldn't help," Hawk shrugged.

"I'm impressed. I take it the future's normal?"

"I haven't looked honestly. Haven't wanted to."

"Fair enough," Altair said. Altair wouldn't want to look either.

"You're still an idiot though," Hawk said.

Altair rolled his eyes, "Whatever."

Altair proceeded to ignore Hawk and finish putting away his groceries. An hour later he heard Ezio talking to Duncan and then the game was turned off. Thank goodness. He didn't like punishing the boys. But seven hours in front of the TV? Absolutely not. Ezio was taking the SNES with him when he left.

"Chief, go do some of your school work and we'll eat when you're done," Altair called. Duncan said he would and went to his room to do it. He was home schooled and would be unless he asked otherwise. Duncan still got stressed out a bit out around people and strangers talking to him made him uncomfortable. He was about as introverted as they came but that was okay.

Altair made dinner for everyone, making sure to make enough for Duncan and Ezio who he both knew would have seconds and maybe thirds. After dinner Altair worked on Desmond and Duncan's Dutch. Desmond was better at it than Duncan but he could still hold a conversation. Altair made a point to speak only in Dutch when they were out and about so the boys had to use it to talk to him. He and Ezio also did a short lesson in French with them since French was a common second language in Holland but they were both not so great with French.

After that Altair had Desmond take a bath and get ready for bed. Desmond hated bed time like any four year old. He'd do anything to get out of it including run away from Altair, butt ass naked, out to the living room, making Altair follow after. He picked Desmond up by one arm and the boy laughed and complained at the same time as he was carried to his room and Altair shoved his little noodle arms through the limbs of his PJs. The twenty minutes after that consisted of Desmond picking the correct number and type of stuffed animals he wanted to sleep with. Then finally Altair got him to lie in bed.

"Tell me a story, _baba_ ," Desmond said.

"Alright," he said, "about what?"

"Dragons," Desmond said. "There was a dragon in the game we played. I want a story about a dragon."

Altair just looked down at the little savior but he wasn't there. He was flashing back to Cain. The first time he'd ever 'met' Cain was the first time he'd gone Under. A flash and feeling of a dragon. Cain liked to call himself that sometimes and people who didn't know him as Cain knew him as names like Draco, Drake, Fafnir, Ladon, Ryu, and more in languages no one spoke anymore or were so tiny it was like no one spoke them. Cain liked to laugh and tease that when he was mad he could blow fire. Of course Altair had never seen Cain mad but he wouldn't have doubted it.

"A dragon?" Altair asked. Desmond nodded. "Okay. A dragon story. Hmmm. Well, once upon a time in a land far away from here there was a man-

"I said a dragon, _baba_ ," Desmond said.

"I'll get to it," Altair said. "Now shush." Desmond nodded and waited. "Now, there was a man. Once a very great man. But time had not been kind to the man and where once he'd been a king he was now much less. Not a king of the whole world, just his world. People loved him and he loved them. The man had a family, friends and children and they did everything together.

"Then tragedy befell the man. His beautiful wife died suddenly. His best friend left him. One son died and the other hated him for reasons he couldn’t really say. Seemingly overnight the man was alone through no fault of his own. Alone he tore off his crown and left behind his great clothes and let someone else take his position. He became a pauper for without those around him who loved him he didn't see the point of being king."

"This is a sad story, baba," Desmond said.

"The best stories start sad, _ibn_ ," Altair said and tugged Desmond'a blanket up a bit to go right under his chin. "The man wandered the land, not knowing what to do. Then, one day, he stumbled upon a cave hiiiiigh in the mountains. He thought that was a good place to rest for the night so he went into the cave and fell asleep. He was woken when the occupant of the cave came home. It was a dragon," and Desmond's eyes were wide.

"The dragon saw the man sleeping and let out a great roar. 'What are you doing in my cave?!' The dragon demanded. 'I am just looking for a place to rest,' the man pleaded. 'Please, don't eat me.' The dragon was amused by this and said, 'I'm not going to eat you silly human. I am a dragon. I do not eat the stringy flesh of humans. You may stay in my cave, but in the morning you must leave.' With that the man went back to sleep and in the morning he left as the dragon had instructed.

"The man returned to the cave that night. The dragon was there when he came. The dragon roared, 'Human! You come to my cave again?' 'Yes,' said the man, 'I am here to repay the kindness you showed me last night letting me sleep in your cave.' The man had brought a lamb from a shepherd, still alive. He set it before the dragon. The dragon looked at the lamb but did not eat it. Instead he just licked it-

"Ew," Desmond said, making a face.

Altair chuckled before he continued. "The dragon took the lamb and brought it close to it. 'Thank you human. You may stay the night again if you wish,' the dragon said. The man graciously agreed and spent the night in the dragon's cave.

"The man came to live with the dragon. Every day the man would go out and bring something back for the dragon. The dragon, easy to please, was always happy with the gift and added it to his hoard.

"One day the man did not come to the cave for the night. The dragon became worried of where the man had gone and set out to search for him. After several hours of searching he found the man sleeping out in the field. 'Why do you sleep out in the field?' The dragon asked when he found the man. 'I have used the last of my coin from when I was a king,’ the man said, 'I had nothing to bring you tonight in return for letting me stay in your cave.' The dragon laughed at this. 'You think you must buy your way into my cave, human? There is always room in my cave for a friend!'"

"The dragon called the man his friend!" Desmond squeaked excitedly.

"Yes," Altair said, hoping he didn't sound sad. "After that the man and dragon were the best of friends. The man filled the hole left by his wife and best friend with the dragon. The dragon gave him everything and always made sure the man was happy and had good food to eat and a warm place to sleep. The dragon told the man his true name and the man told the dragon of his wife and best friend and sons. The dragon was sympathetic towards his heartbreak but was more than happy to fill the man with new happiness and stories. The dragon showed the man the wonders of the wilderness and all its creatures. As a dragon the dragon could commune with all the beasts in the mountains and he taught the man how to talk to them as well. But as a human the man had a clumsy tongue when it came to animal languages. The dragon would laugh at his flubs and correct and help him learn it properly.

“As time passed the man learned from the dragon that the dragon was alone. Not that he had no mate or hatchlings, but he was the last of his kind. Or at least the last that the dragon knew of, and the dragon was old and had seen many things. He had not seen another dragon in a very _very_ long time. That made the man sad, but also happy. The dragon knew what it was like to be alone, and as the dragon brought him companionship, so too did the man to the dragon.” Desmond’s eyes were droopy and Altair was gently stroking his head. His voice had dropped to just above a whisper and Desmond was struggling to stay awake.

"Then, one day, while the man was out, dragonslayers came. They had heard of the dragon, the last of his kind and sought to find him and kill him. They came when the man was out and captured the dragon!

"When the man returned he saw his dragon friend was gone, the cave empty of the beast. He waited all day and night for the dragon to come home, but he never did. Only after the sun had risen did the man go deeper into the cave where he’d never been. The dragon might have loved the man and been his true friend but he was still a dragon, and guarded his hoard jealously. When the man entered the cavern of the dragon’s hoard it was empty. Not a single coin remained. The man thought the dragon had left him and heart broken he went down the mountain to the city. There he heard of the dragonslayers who’d come. They had taken the dragon to the lord of the city, a tribute to him. You still awake buddy?" he asked Desmond. Desmond’s eyes were closed.

"I am," Desmond insisted and cracked his eyes open. “Is the story almost over?”

“Yes,” Altair said. “The man rushed to the castle to find his friend and saw him locked in a great cage sealed by magic so the dragon couldn’t break out.” Desmond took a deep, sleepy breath.

“Did the man save the dragon?” Desmond asked, he wasn’t going to make it another thirty seconds.

Altair stroked Desmond’s head. “Yes,” he said softly. “He freed the dragon and they flew away to live far away from all the people who wanted to hurt them.” Desmond smiled a little and then he was asleep. “Goodnight,” Altair leaned down and kissed Desmond on the top of the head before easing off the bed and turning off the light.

Altair stood outside of Desmond’s room a moment and felt guilt run through his entire body. Not a flash or a flicker like he sometimes did but a slow seep that coiled around his heart like a python. He’d left his dragon in that magic cage and run away. He tried to deny it but the truth ate at him. It always ate at him. Not for the first time he thought about going and getting him. Getting him and what? He knew Cain would be out for his blood after what he’d done. He’d want to hurt Altair and if Altair was lucky he’d just kill Altair a few times to get his hate out. Or worse he wouldn’t kill Altair and would hurt Altair through Desmond and Duncan. He knew how Cain worked. He didn’t get angry or pissed off. He got even and hurt you in ways and in places you weren’t expecting to be hurt. Altair was well aware the boys were his weakness. He didn’t know what Cain would do, but he didn’t want to know either. He couldn’t let Cain out. Not till this was over. That’s what he told himself at any rate.

That night after he sent Duncan to bed and kicked Ezio out to his hotel in town and made Hawk a bed on the couch he went to his room and took a few sleep aids. He needed some real sleep tonight. Mainly so he wouldn’t think or feel guilty about Cain. Normally he slept without dreams but tonight he got strange flashes of something. He couldn’t really bring up exactly _what_ it was flashes of, only that they were there. He woke up when he heard knocking and the hushed sound of someone crying. When he realized it was crying that got him to wake up instantly. He jumped out of bed and opened the door.

Duncan was there, holding Desmond who was sniffling into his shoulder. “What is it?” Altair asked.

“Bad dreams,” Duncan said, trying to look strong but Altair could tell he’d woken up and cried a bit too. What the hell? “Can we sleep with you?” He beckoned them inside and Altair took Desmond from Duncan. Desmond instantly clung to him, hanging off his neck as Altair closed the door.

“Its okay buddy,” Altair told Desmond soothingly, rubbing his beck. Duncan sat next to Altair on the bed looking like he desperately wanted comfort too but didn’t know how to ask. Two years wasn’t enough to undo the nine at the Farm and Andrew’s uncaring ways or Kaley’s later neglect. Altair transferred Desmond to his other side and put his arm around Duncan who looked incredibly relieved to not have to ask. “It was just a dream,” he told them both gently. “Dreams can’t hurt you.”

“It was scary,” Desmond whined.

“What was it?”

“A mean person was trying to take me away,” Desmond sniffed. “I didn’t want to go away.”

Altair looked at Duncan, “I had the same bad dream, only worse,” Duncan swallowed. Right, the dream about how he was worthless and stupid and was better off dead. Worse now? Just what Duncan needed. He made a note to take Duncan to a therapist to see if he had depression like his mother and if they could do something to help him.

“No one’s going to take you away _ibn_ ,” Altair told Desmond gently. “I won’t let them. And you,” he looked at Duncan. “You’re like the second most important thing to me in the whole world. Other than Desmond and that’s only cause he’s four and no offense chief, but he’s got you beat on cuteness scale,” and that made Duncan smile a little.

“Can I stay here tonight… dad?” Duncan asked hesitantly.

“What Des got you saying that now too?” Altair asked. Duncan just nodded stiffly. Altair rubbed Duncan’s shoulder. “Yeah, you can stay here _ibn_ ,” he said and Duncan just about exploded in relief and happiness for Altair to accept him. “Lets have no more bad dreams okay?” Duncan nodded. “Try and get some sleep, both of you.”

“ _Baba_ ,” Desmond sniffled, “how does the story end?”

“Ah, right,” Altair said as Duncan laid down next to Altair on his side. Altair rubbed Desmond’s back as he told the rest. “The man rushed to the castle where his friend was being held in an unbreakable magic cage. The dragonslayers were boasting to the lord about their great feat and saying they’d brought it in his honor. They would let the lord deal the killing blow so he could gain the status of a dragonslayer. The lord was pleased by this and accepted.

“The dragonslayers gave the lord a sword to kill the beast. At the last moment the man ran forward and when the noble man made to pierce the dragon’s heart he instead stabbed the man in the chest. Enraged by what had happened to his friend the dragon flew into a fury. Using magic not even he knew he possessed the dragon turned the cage around him into rusty ash. In the confusion and chaos of the dragon freeing itself the dragonslayers were caught unaware. The dragon smashed the head of the lord and thrashed the dragonslayers against the wall with his great tail and wings. He rained fire onto everyone around him.

“Once the evil men were slain the dragon gathered the man up into his arms and flew away, far away into the mountains, leaving behind the dragonslayers who had stolen him and his hoard from his home. The dragon took the man deep into the forest to a spring that was said to be able to heal any wound. He put the man into the spring and prayed and waited.

“After a long while the man breathed again. When he saw that the dragon was alive the man wept. ‘Why do you cry, my friend?’ the dragon asked. ‘I cry because I am so happy you are safe and alive!’ the man said. ‘You are the only friend I have left. I don’t know what I would do without you.’ That made the dragon very happy.

“Once the man had recovered from his wound he climbed onto the dragon’s back. The dragon said, ‘We will go somewhere far away. Somewhere we will both be safe, where there are no more dragonslayers because there are no more dragons.’ ‘Where is that?’ the man asked. ‘I don’t know. But we will find it. Together,’ the dragon promised. Then the dragon flew away from the spring with the man on his back to find a new, safe, place to live. They lived happily ever after,” Altair finished. Desmond had already fallen asleep and Duncan wasn’t much longer for this world. Altair put Desmond down on his other side and Duncan moved over a bit to make room. Desmond pressed against Altair’s side and Duncan the other.

“That was a nice story,” Duncan yawned. “Even if I didn’t hear the first part,” he smiled sleepily.

“Go back to sleep chief,” Altair said. Duncan nodded into the pillow and closed his eyes. Altair stayed awake, watching his boys sleep and knew he’d let nothing hurt them. Not the Assassins and sure as shit not bad dreams. The two of them slept soundly the rest of the night.


	10. House on Fire

Desmond woke up to yelling. His flight and fight response kicked because it wasn't just yelling. It was yelling  _at him_  in a language he didn't know. He kicked out, a man screamed when Desmond snapped their knee.

More yelling as Desmond tried to get to his feet. The butt of a rifle hit his face and he crumpled. They hit him again for good measure and while he didn't pass out, he wasn't going to be getting up anytime soon.

He groaned as the men, still yelling in a language that was vaguely romantic but what sort Desmond was too disorientated to tell, grabbed him up under his armpits. Two of them, and started to drag him forward. Desmond just breathed and tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

The clearing, which last night had looked empty, was full of tents. There were people, talking, and casting furtive looks at him. He was brought to the other side of the camp to a tall, wooden, poll. Desmond knew what it was but he was too disorientated and he was bleeding from his face from the rifle butt to the face, and couldn't stop them when they threw him against it and bound his hands behind his back around the post. Desmond groaned as he lay there on the ground, his arms twisted into an uncomfortable angle and looked up at three men pointing guns at him, yelling in what sounded like Spanish but could have been any similar language.

With a groan he forced himself to sit up. He was bleeding from his temple, and his lip and forehead and he was going to have two big bruises on his face later from this. At least they were human. Small miracles but a miracle anyway.

"No hab-" Desmond tried, but the words were hard to get out of his mouth, he was still so tired and had just been beaten in the face. His brain wasn't working right. "No hablar," he tried again, hoping they at least understood his stupid Spanish. They continued yelling and Desmond just didn't have the brain fortitude to deal with them.

Then someone, a much calmer someone, approached and got the men to stop yelling. Oh good. Desmond just hung his head trying to not get blood all over his clothes. The calm man crouched in front of him and Desmond looked up. There was recognition in his eyes, but Desmond didn't know him. He was normal looking, if a bit old with brown eyes and perfect hair that was white with a bit of brown streaked in it. Even though he was an old guy he was still pretty good looking and Desmond thought he kinda looked like an older version of him. "Hello, Desmond," they said.

"How you know me?" Desmond asked and sucked blood to spit it off to the side.

The man smiled. "More of you than actually know you," he said.

"Great," Desmond groaned. "Who're you?"

"My name's John," he said nice and kind.

"Well, hello John. Mind telling me why I'm tied to a post after getting the shit beat out of me for no reason?"

"They were just scared. Don't think too badly of them. Let's get you untied."

"Great," Desmond said and someone else came up and cut the rope around his wrists. He stayed on the ground another minute trying to get his wind back and spit a bit of blood out before rolling to his feet. The person who'd cut his bindings was a guy a few years older than him with a nose that had been broken  _way_  too many times. He looked kinda like John too. Father and son maybe?

"Let's get you cleaned up, hmm?"

"Sounds great," Desmond said and followed after John to a tent. He handed Desmond a first aid kit that had seen better days. He had some gauze, medical tape, and bandaids to work with. Cool. Not.

Desmond sat in one of the folding chairs in the tent before administering his own first aid. He was glad John didn't offer to help. He wouldn't have taken it. He didn't know this guy and didn't want him touching Desmond. "So, who are you guys? How the fuck do you know me?" Desmond asked once he'd wiped most of the blood off his face.

"We're Assassins," he said. That god Desmond to look up. "Part of what's left of them at least."

"Is this all there is?" Desmond asked.

"All what?" John cocked his head at Desmond.

"All the Assassins left?"

"No."

"Who's the commanding officer?" Desmond asked as he kept pressure on his temple cut. Face cuts bled  _a lot_  but weren't usually that bad. His mouth scar was the worst face injury he'd ever gotten.

"They aren't here right now. They'll be arriving tonight though."

"Okay. Can you tell me how to get to Tikal?"

"Tikal? Why do you want to go to Tikal?"

"That's my business," Desmond winced when he pressed against a cut.

"I could. But until the Master and their team get here, you aren't going anywhere."

Desmond lowered the towel slowly, "Is that a threat?" Desmond asked.

"No. It's just very far away and they'll be interested in meeting you. We heard you were dead."

Desmond eyed him, "People say a lot of dumb shit," he said and looked away from John to tape gauze to her face to soak up blood on his temple.

"They do. You're not our prisoner but I'm sure our Master will be more than happy to help you to Tikal."

"Mmm, right. Okay. When are they arriving again?"

"This evening. So just stay out the way today and no one will bother you."

"You sure about that?" Desmond gave him a bit of a glare.

"I will tell the civilians you're safe and shouldn't be harmed," John assured him.

Desmond sucked his teeth a little. "Yeah. Okay. Sure. Why the fuck not? Not like I have anywhere else to go."

John smiled. "Great. That's great to hear. Breakfast is in an hour and lunch is exactly at noon. You're more than welcome to join us."

Desmond was going to say no but instead, he flushed when his stomach announced  _very loudly_  that it was hungry. "Yeah. Thanks," he said.

"Now I have some things to do. Just stay out of trouble, kid," he said in such a friendly manner that kinda weirded Desmond the hell out. He smiled at Desmond and then left the tent.

—

Like John said Master showed up in the early evening. Before dinner as the sky was just starting to turn pink and purple. Desmond had spent the day sitting down, trying to make his headache go away. He knew they'd arrived because the camp suddenly swarmed with activity to prepare for their arrival.

Desmond didn't move a fucking inch.

A few off-road vehicles rolled up behind some tents, people got out. Desmond just waited, to see what would happen. He gently touched his face, as he had been all day, and winced like he had every other time. It still hurt. At least he wasn't bleeding anymore.

He was caught up in inspecting his face he didn't realize who was coming up to him until they were, quite literally, right in front of him. He looked up and didn't really recognize the woman. She was in his mid to late fifties maybe with short ash brown hair shot through with more than a little white. She had hazel eyes and a knife scar on the right side of her face but looked better for it. She looked like she'd seen some shit.

"Hello, Des," she said and Desmond rose his brows at her.

"That's a pretty familiar way to refer to someone you've never met," Desmond said, calmly putting his hands on the table. It was weird. Everyone seemed… afraid of her. Well not afraid maybe just wary. The same way people were wary of Altair. Her big arms weren't for show. Now that Desmond thought about it, despite her age she was almost in as good of shape as Desmond was.

She smiled and it unnerved him. There was something familiar about it but he couldn't place why exactly. "I guess I have no one to blame but myself for that," she said and Desmond leaned back when she reached out to touch him. She still grabbed his face to inspect the way his hurt face. "Who did this?"

"One of your trigger-happy goons," Desmond said. He tugged his face out of her grasp. The way she spoke reminded him of Altair when he worried about Desmond.

She looked away and beckoned to someone. An Assassin came over. "Who did this to him?"

"Ah, one of the outsiders," they said. Desmond just watched with curious attention. "We told them not to but he scared them they said."

"I see. Find out which ones. I will speak with them later."

"Yes, Master." They seemed relieved to be able to leave her presence. Was she crazy? Maybe she was unstable? So far she'd been completely pleasant to Desmond and he had no reason to be wary of her other than that she seemed super familiar and it was weirding him out.

She offered his hand to him. "C'mon, let's talk," she said. He ignored his hand but did get to his feet. She beckoned and he followed her into a tent. She sat on a folding chair and motioned for him to do the same. Desmond sat slowly. "I'm sorry my men were less than hospitable to you. It won't happen again."

"Yeah," Desmond said slowly. "So… what is all this? The Assassins? A guy named John told me you're Assassins. This is all that's left?"

She frowned. "We aren't all that is left but we're one of the larger groups of us left."

"And you, who are you?"

"I'm the leader of this group."

"That guy called you the Master. Just a Master?" It was a loaded question and they both knew it. How important was this lady?

"The Assassins are scattered and have difficulty communicating. If you're asking if I'm the Mentor I can tell you I'm the closest thing the Assassins have had to one in many years. The proeathans killed all our leaders first. Same with the Templars. They knew we were there. Apparently, they saw us more of a threat than world governments. So we're more or less leaderless except for those who make themselves into it," she explained. "Is that a satisfactory answer, Des?"

"Yeah." He still couldn't shake the feeling that she was familiar. And she acted like she knew him but he'd never seen her before. "I can't shake the feeling we've met before. But I've never met you before," he said. He couldn't figure it out. "Like a dream or something."

"Heh. Hardly. A nightmare would be more accurate."

"You going to tell me? Or keep me guessing?"

Her lips twitched. "I had hoped you'd recognize me but I guess that was too much to hope. We didn't see each other much. A mistake in a long line of mistakes and I'm sorry for that. But I don't expect forgiveness. You're too much like the rest of us. You don't forgive easily," she sighed and leaned back in the chair. Desmond hadn't relaxed the entire time and was just watching her, alert as always. Something in his brain was screaming at him about who this woman was. It was right there as the memory of a dream or a long forgotten childhood memory. "It's probably best you're sitting." That didn't make Desmond feel any more at ease. He was still high key anxious about hearing who she was. "My name is Kaley Miles. I'm your mother."

Desmond felt like all the had been sucked out of his body. Now he knew why he felt like he knew this woman but couldn't place why. Why she said it was like they'd met in a nightmare. His one good memory of Kaley Miles was her picking him up out of the blood pool Duncan had made when he'd killed himself when he was eight. All other memories were hazy. He recalled seeing her rarely growing up until he ran away. A glimpse of her standing in the hallway. A woman standing in the kitchen. The look of disinterest if she saw him staring in surprise to be reminded he had a mother.

"Fuck off," Desmond growled.

She didn't seem surprised by his remark. "I'd feel the same way," she said. "Like I said, I don't expect your forgiveness. I'm not that stupid. My useless husband would have but not me. He never did know how to handle people like us."

"You think?" Desmond snarled.

"How's the old man hmm?" The question threw him off.

"Uh… what?"

"I don't know his name. Well, I know a name. Who knows if it's real. The asshole."

Desmond answered without thinking. "Altair? He's probably getting murdered by his brother right now."

"Heh. Idiot," she said. Then she smiled at him. "How are you?"

"Why the fuck do you care?"

"Because I've made mistakes in my life and I'm an adult enough to want to try to fix them," she said. "We don't even know each other. I'd like to change that."

"Too little too late, lady," Desmond said meanly.

"In my experience, it's never too late for anything. Especially to make your life work."

"Yeah, how you figure that?"

"Well, murder fixes all sorts of problems someone can have," she smiled a little. "Especially when words don't really cut it."

That surprised him. "You're crazy," he said.

"From what I've heard, so are you," she said. She spoke very calmly and almost gently, in a soft but striking tone. Weirdly it reminded him of Cain in a way. He tried to remember what he knew about his mother. It wasn't a lot. Duncan always said she was sick and when Desmond had asked he said she was sick with sadness. As an adult Desmond realized that that was just depression. Same way Duncan had it. His father barely spoke of her and when he did it was in the past tense like she was dead. It seemed that somewhere in the isolation of her own depression she'd cracked. Desmond knew the feeling. But she wasn't insane, at least not obviously. It was a cold and cruel madness brought on by a life that had been cruel right back.

"Only sometimes," Desmond said slowly. He really didn't know what to make of this woman in front of him.

"I heard the things Andrew would say to you," she said. "And to Duncan. I was too sick to help and for that, I am so sorry. If I had been better none of it would have happened."

"Yeah. How do you figure that?"

"Well I would have stabbed him for starters," she said. "I know I wasn't there when I should have been but I often thought about doing it before I finally could get my sorry ass to actually do it-

"Hold up. You killed my dad?"

"Yes, I killed my husband. A year or so after you ran away. He was scum. An outsider who was angry with me for what I'd done like he was an innocent babe. It wasn't the first time he tried to rape me when I killed him," she said it so reasonably. That yes, of course, she'd stabbed him. He'd been a horrible rapist and she was allowed to kill him. "Then I went home because I had no reason to keep being at the Farm. I don't know what they did with my unfaithful husband's body."

There was a way she said it all that tickled Desmond's mind. He didn't know what or why. It was just a way she worded things. "He's really dead?"

"Oh yes, very dead," she said.

"What do you want from me?"

She frowned sadly at him. "Oh, Des, I don't want anything from you. Except maybe that one day you can forgive me for being a horrible mother to you. Just seeing that you're alive makes me happy. Everyone else wrote you off. Said the proeathans had killed you, or worse. They didn't have faith."

"And you did?"

"What's a mother if not someone who always believes in their children?"

Desmond leaned back in the chair. He didn't know what to make of this. Really he was just sort of blown away by all of this. "I need to get to Tikal," he said.

"So I was informed," she said. "We are also going to Tikal."

"Why?"

"To investigate it. It appeared a few weeks ago so we're going to see what it is. What are you going there for?"

"That's my business."

"C'mon, I shared my reasoning with you, you share yours with me. That's how a conversation works."

"My friends are there," he said, giving nothing else away. Or that was the plan. She just blinked at him and he got the feeling he'd just given  _everything_  away. He did his best not to squirm.

"I see. Well, we can help you get there. My people are cutting through the jungle as we speak to break us through to Tikal. Once we have a clear passage you're more than welcome to come with us."

"Yeah… okay," Desmond said slowly. "And what do you have in mind while I wait?"

Kaley uncrossed her legs. He couldn't remember when she'd crossed them. It made him nervous. He wasn't sure why. There was something incredibly dangerous about Kaley Miles now that he'd had some time to be in her presence. The same way there was something dangerous about Altair and Ezio and Hawk. The same way there was something dangerous about him. No wonder people showed her wary respect out of fear and she'd done nothing to him. She'd been so pleasant and soft-spoken and outright  _kind_  to him. "That depends on you," she said. "You can do nothing, or you can help out if you want."

"If it's all the same to you I really don't feel like helping the people who bashed my face in," Desmond said.

"Hmm," she smiled a little. He really didn't fucking like it when she smiled like that. "Alright," she pushed herself up. Desmond followed her lead. "Just don't cause trouble and no one will bother you. I know that will be incredibly difficult for you but just do your best," she said like she knew everything about him. Shit, maybe she  _did_.

"I make no promises," he said, still wary.

"And if you need anything just ask John."

"Yeah, sure…" Desmond said and she went and held open the tent flap for him. He left the tent. The camp was surprisingly quiet. It had been louder earlier. Desmond hunched a little and went to find a place to sit in the shade, out of the way.

—

Desmond woke up from a session with Lilith trying to get his head right again. He opened his eyes and looked around the empty grass room. No one was in here with him. "Hey, Demeter," he said, not sitting up.

"Yes, Desmond?" she asked.

"What do the other humans say about my mom?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think I heard them say something like… she's a demon? Or that she's possessed? I swear I heard it. Like how people talk about Lucy."

"Yes. That is talk around the ark after what happened at the plantations," Demeter said.

"Why?"

"I'm not exactly sure. I've never seen."

"Anyone know?" Desmond asked his AI at large.

"Sorry," Pluto said. "Just people saying rumors and talking. Nothing concrete."

"Mmmm. Can you ask her to come here?"

"Of course," Demeter said. There was a moment of silence. "She says she's coming."

"Yeah… hmmm," Desmond looked up at the ceiling and then at the chalice where Lilith was contained. It had hit him like a lightning strike while training with her. He got up and put Lilith back in her high saline water tank.

Kaley arrived in a few minutes and Desmond was waiting for her. He was thinking about the rumors he heard about her. The very specific word choice they used when describing what she did when fighting at the plantations. He looked over when she came in. "Des, honey, you wanted to see me?"

"Yeah. Think fast," Desmond said and in a split second tossed a fireball right at her head.

He was expecting it was but still surprised when she caught it with a cry of surprise and tossed it over her shoulder. "Desmond! That's rude," she scolded him. "Don't just throw things at people." Her eyes were black, just like Lilith's, just like his.

"Huh," he said.

They stared at each other and then Kaley realized what had just happened. "Oh… uh… whoops," she said.

"Well, now I know why people are fucking terrified of you," Desmond said. "Black eyes do nothing for you."

"Don't say it so rudely."

"I mean they don't do much for me either," and he blacked his eyes out. Her lips twitched. He went back to his regular vision. "Who taught you that lil trick?"

"No one," she said. "Remember how I told you I killed my husband?"

"It's your favorite story to tell me," Desmond said.

"Maybe I  _didn't_  stab him. Maybe I burned his face and dick off with my hands instead," she said and gave an uninterested shrug. "Hard to not figure it out after that."

"Planning on telling me?"

"When it was necessary," she said dismissively and finally came over to him. "And who taught  _you_?" she asked.

"Another really scary lady. You'd probably love her actually. Her name is Lilith."

"Ha! Really now?"

"Yeah."

"Well, where is she?"

"She's… kinda dead?" he looked at the water basin.

"Oh. One of those infernal devices. I've tried using one. Back when the world was first starting to go to shit I got ahold of one. I couldn't deal with the screaming. Such temperamental things. Gave me a terrible headache.

"Yeah. They'll do that. Lilith is different from the vessels you've used."

"Maybe. Doesn't matter really. What did you need, sweetie?" she asked so nice and pleasant.

"I just wanted to see if I was right," he said. "Rumor is you're a demon who shoots lasers out of her eyes-

Kaley's laugh interrupted him. "I  _wish_. That sounds awesome! No. Laser eyes is a bit above my pay grade. As fun as that would be," she said, lips curled back in a smile that made her ten years younger.

"That's… all I guess."

"You want some help, sweetie?" she asked gently.

Desmond stiffened a little. "Excuse me?"

"Your technique was pretty bad. It was basically hot air."

"That's what fire is," Desmond said slowly.

"Yeah but fire can also be  _this_ ," and her eyes blacked out. She reached down to yank some grass out of the ground and held it in her hands. Her hands were palm up in front of her and Desmond watched as first they literally caught on fire, burning the grass, and then the heat got so intense it was like she was literally melting the air and carbon and turning it into plasma. Desmond stared even as he broke out into a horrible sweat in his long sleeves. Kaley wasn't sweating. Then she closed her hands into a fist and all at once the bright light and heat of the plasma was snuffed out. She tossed the smoking, but not burning, residue of her plasma onto the ground with a shake of her hand. "And there you go," she said.

"Holy fuck," he said, beyond impressed. "How did you  _make_  plasma?"

"By making the world so hot even it melted," she said wickedly. "You want to learn to make plasma?"

Desmond's mouth opened and closed a few times and some sounds came out of his mouth but not words. "You can teach me how to make plasma?"

"Sure? I taught your cousin Ryan how to make heat. He isn't super great at it but it's one of the few ways he's figured out how to channel his anger."

"And John?"

"Light, little heat, nothing special."

"Nothing special! They can literally make light and heat out of nothing. That's amazing," he cried.

"But it's not useful. Not for our fighting. It's a fun play at things, but it isn't anything worthwhile. Not like what I can do, or what I hear you can do."

"And what's that? Hmm?"

"Well if what the proeathans and your AI say are on the money it could be anything. Or everything, rather. Or that you did some really impossible before. I can help you. With what I know at least. I can't do the things they do," she grimaced a little.

"Plasma seems like a bad idea in the wrong hands," Desmond said.

"Well, I'm the only one who can do it."

"What I just said."

She rose her brows at him. "You think I'm the wrong hands, Desmond?"

"I think like Cain you're worth being wary of and treated like you could do whatever the hell you want and most of us wouldn't be able to stop you."

"That's a sweet thing to say."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"Well I took it as one," she shrugged. "If that's all I'll be going."

Desmond watched her leave before his stomach twisted. "Wait," he took a step after her, his hand coming up a little. He didn't want her to go. She stopped and turned around, looking over her shoulder. "I would like you to show me how to really play with fire," he said. It wasn't even that really. He could care less about using pyromancy. He just wanted to try, maybe, to have a relationship with this woman he didn't know but was actually his mother.

She smiled a little. "Okay," she said brightly. She came back over to him. "Show me what you can do."

—

It was weird when Desmond went looking for Altair and found his mother sitting on his chest. Not in a sexy way. She was straddling him but the way she had his hands pinned down told Desmond this wasn't a friendly meeting. At least not now even if it might have started off that way. It was hard not to start things off pleasantly with Kaley. She was just so unassuming and pleasant it was easy to forget she could probably rip your throat out or burn your face off.

"Uh… I'm not interrupting am I?" Desmond asked.

Kaley released Altair's wrists and sat up, looking at him. "Oh, Des honey, of course not," she said.

"He busy or can I talk to him?"

Kaley looked down at Altair then put her fists on her hips. "Maybe. He hasn't annoyed me too much today."

"Okay…" Desmond said slowly. He moved over to the two of them. Altair hadn't moved since she let him go. "You didn't put him Under did you?"

"Hmm? No. I let Cain have that game. I don't find it cathartic like he does."

"Right." Desmond still had trouble with this whole his mom was alive and enjoyed giving Altair a hard time. Even though she told him they'd known each other before Desmond was born. He'd lived on the Farm for a while. It had been then that Desmond realized that this was the man Duncan had talked about a lot. A faceless man. A nothing man. Not that he was nothing but that he was no one, nobody, and had no identity. "Can you get off him. It's weird talking to either of him when it looks like you're about to do something."

"Heh, not this time," she said and got off Altair, standing up.

It took Desmond a second to process that. Then he didn't want to process it. "Wait… EW!" he yelled.

Kaley laughed. "Yeah, remembering your parents have sex is always gross," she said sort of apologetically.

Altair had finally moved. He'd put his hand over his face. Desmond was busy wishing brain bleach was a thing because he didn't want to think about Altair having sex with anyone, let alone his mother. That was another level of gross. "I didn't need that knowledge in my life," Desmond said. Kaley just shrugged.

"We all know things in life we wish we didn't. Now, what did you want?"

"I honestly forgot," Desmond said. "I was just so traumatized I literally forgot why I came here in the first place." He knew it had something to do with Jake but he couldn't remember. Something something Jake was terrified of Kaley. He wasn't sure why. Both parties said Kaley had never touched the kid so she hadn't hurt him. Desmond didn't know why Jake was scared of Kaley. He was scared of Kaley the same way he was scared of Cain.

"Then it probably wasn't that important," she said nicely.

"Oh, leave the kid alone, Kay," Altair said and finally got to his feet.

"You know," she wrapped an arm around Desmond's shoulders. Kaley was tall for a woman so could just manage it. "Lucy told me about how you know each other. The Animus thing. Though you guys look so alike. Must be the middle eastern in our family, huh?" she asked Desmond but was looking at Altair.

"I guess," Desmond shrugged. He couldn't really see Kaley's face. Altair kept looking between him and Kaley his face strikingly pale.

" _Well shit,_ " Altair muttered in Arabic and covered his mouth.

"Ah," Kaley said. Desmond looked at her. He had no idea what had just happened. "Well, I've caused enough trouble for one day. I'll leave you boys to it." She squeezed Desmond's shoulder and gave him a peck on the cheek before letting go and leaving.

"You okay?" Desmond asked Altair when she was gone. He was just staring at Desmond. "What was that about anyway? Altair," he said louder.

Altair physically jumped. "What? Sorry, I didn't hear you," Altair said.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said. He was still staring at Desmond like Desmond was some crazy anomaly. "Ah- you need something, Desmond?"

"I think Jake was looking for you? But he said Demeter told him you were talking to Kaley and you know how he is- Did you hear anything I just said?" Desmond asked. Altair was back to staring at him like he was shocked Desmond existed.

Altair cleared his throat. "Jake's looking for me?"

"Yeah. You sure you're okay? I can ask her to leave you alone if you want." If nothing else Kaley usually did what he asked when he asked her nicely.

Altair rubbed his face with one hand. "No. It's okay. I… she's got the right I guess. Fuck," he ended up muttering.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's fine," Altair cleared his throat. "So uh… where was Jake?"

"The aquarium," Desmond said. That was the name the people of Demeter had started calling one of the bigger tanks full of fish that supplied with a good supply of their protein since fish were easier to raise than livestock a lot of the time. Less labor intensive at least.

"Right. Thanks," Altair said. "I'll go see what he wants then," and he walked past Desmond. Desmond looked after him with more than a little confusion. Even more so when Altair looked back at him like to make sure Desmond was real. When he saw Desmond was watching him back he quickly turned back around and practically ran away.

"The fuck just happened?" Desmond asked the empty room. He had no idea.

—

Unsurprising when Kaley wasn't bothering Altair she was out on the practice yard. Along with Desmond and the others, Kaley was one of the strongest users of Eagle Vision and it was a boon to have her showing others how to use it. She was sparring with Ryan, his cousin.

Desmond still couldn't get over the fact that he had cousins. He had family. Ryan was a few years older than him, even more so now thanks to him being a prisoner for five years. His father was Kaley's older brother but he was dead. All of his family had been killed during the five years Desmond had been captive. He had a lot of rage but was shit at holding it together. As was clear by how he fought with Kaley. Kaley, for all being fifteen years older than him just sort of tossed him around and deflected his blows.

Desmond stood and watched them spar for a little bit. He knew Kaley knew he was there. She had this weird sense to know where he was when he was close by. She'd talk to him once she'd finished with Ryan. Ryan didn't look like Desmond at all. Kaley said he looked just like his mother, meaning not a Miles. Desmond didn't put a lot of weight behind such words. It didn't matter to him.

Eventually, Kaley threw Ryan to the ground for the last time and stood over him, winded. "Alright, Ryan, good practice. Let's call it here."

"Aww, I was just getting going, auntie," he said. Desmond knew the bluff. Ryan was heavily winded and Kaley

"Heh. We'll do some more later, kiddo," she said brightly.

"Okay," Ryan sighed. "Hey, Desmond," he waved a little.

"Hey," Desmond said, just waving with a short hand motion.

Kaley came over to Desmond. "Hey, sweetie."

"Please don't call me that," Desmond said not for the first time.

She sighed a little. "Okay. Did you need something?"

"What did you do to Altair?"

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"He's avoiding me. Which he only started doing after I found you two the other day. Jake says he's avoiding him too. What'd you do?"

"Nothing," she said and he couldn't detect a hint of a lie. Meaning she wasn't lying. Kaley had the same problem Desmond did once you knew her, she was an easy read. "I haven't seen him since then either. Despite what he thinks all his problems are actually his own fault and not everyone else's."

Desmond blinked at her. "You obviously don't know anything about him because he's literally the most self-deprecating guy I've ever met in my life but alright," he said blandly.

"Did you need anything else, sweetie?" she asked.

"Not really-

"Wanna spar?" she asked.

Desmond mulled the invitation over. "No fire," he said.

"Awww, but what's the fun in that?" she complained. "Not like John's any help," she huffed.

"He's figuring it out."

She folded her arms, cocking her hip out a little, "You sure you're my son? You're really no fun at all."

"At this point, I'd rather be no one's son when my dead dad was an abusive jerk and my mom's as crazy as a bag of cats," Desmond said.

"You're so mean," she pouted at him just a bit. "Though I do agree with what you say about my husband, he's better off dead."

That finally turned something over in Desmond's brain. "I'll make a deal with you, we can use fire, but you have to answer a question truthfully."

"Don't I always?" she rose a brow at him.

"No. You answer just enough to be infuriating and six months in Cain's company hasn't helped," Desmond sighed. That made her giggle.

"Alright. This sounds amusing. What do you want to know, sweetie?"

"Why do you always call Andrew your husband?"

She gave him a look. "Is that really the question you're asking? I  _did_  marry him."

"I mean like… hmm," he needed to word this better. "When you've talked about Duncan you say 'Duncan's father' but not when you talk about him with me."

"Oh," she said, mouth open a little in an O shape. "Well, that answer is very simple really. Because Andrew's not your father-

" **WHAT**!" Desmond yelled right over her. "What do you  _mean_?"

"Oh calm down, sweetie, you're causing a scene," she patted his arm in a gesture that was supposed to be comforting but was foreign to Desmond who'd never experienced comforting, motherly, gestures. Indeed, a bunch of the people practicing were now looking, including a lot of Ilythians who looked  _very_  nervous.

"What? No. Fuck you. The fuck do you mean Andrew's not actually my dad?"

"Exactly what I mean, now stop yelling it's doing you no good," she said. Desmond just stared at her. "I know you're upset but take a deep breath and calm down." Desmond found himself doing as ordered and he took a deep breath as she said, held it a few seconds, and let it out slowly. "You don't even look like him I don't know why you thought you were," she rolled her eyes.

"Is that why he hated me? Cause you were sleeping around?" he demanded.

"Save me the anger. My husband was an even bigger whore-

"Mom!" he slapped a hand across his face.

"He slept with literally every other woman at the Farm and I know at least two of the Farm kids were Duncan's half-siblings because Andrew couldn't keep it in his pants."

Desmond was surprisingly angry. That now he knew why Andrew was such a horrible hard ass to him and belittled him and probably hated him. Because he saw some other guy in Desmond's face not even having the self-awareness to see how big of a hypocrite he was. But he was also mad that his entire life was a fucking  _lie_  and now he was faced with the fact that the man he  _thought_  was his dad wasn't actually his dad and he'd been exhausting a lot of patricidal rage on a guy who was both dead and not actually related to him.

"You made my life horrible growing up, you realize this right?" he asked Kaley, furious at her too. Maybe Andrew had been a lying cheat but Desmond hadn't even  _done_  anything other than being born,

"Not intentionally," she said. "I didn't  _want_  you to grow up like that… but," she frowned and sighed. "The mind has other ideas on what it can and can't do."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because I knew you'd fly off the handle, just like you're doing now," Kaley said patiently.

"No, ya think?" he growled. "Who?"

"Come again? Full sentences only, sweetie," she said.

"If Andrew isn't my dad, who is?"

She raised her brows at him. "My, you really take after him if you haven't figured that out. Look in a mirror. You look just like him. I'm surprised you haven't figured it out by now."

"That doesn't answer my question. Just tell me."

"And ruin the surprise?" she smiled at him. "Absolutely not."

"Uhg." He turned and stalked off.

"Hey, you said we'd spar-

"Fuck you," he called over his shoulder at her and kept walking. Fucking infuriating people who held information over him for nothing more than their own entertainment and amusement. He got into the lift at the edge of the training field and looked back out. Kaley was standing there, a hand on her hip. Her entire body language radiated a scolding mother to their toddler having a temper tantrum. Fuck her! Seriously! He glared at her and dialed in the place he wanted to go. The lift closed.

When he exited the lift he was followed by a cloud of steam. He didn't have to go entirely black eyed to just release a lot of rage as heat and when it hit the cooler air outside of the lift it instantly turned to steam. He went to his room and didn't know what to do with himself for a few seconds. Then he just screamed into the empty room as loud and long as he could manage until his throat hurt.

"Desmond, are you alright?" Artemis' voice asked through breaks in the sound. The lights were flickering in the room.

"None of you talk to me. I don't need it right now," he snapped.

He was still trying to deal with his anger. It was hard. He'd never felt this level of anger and betrayal. Since he'd learned his natural inclination to pyromancy keeping that temper in check was even harder. At least without a release. Kaley said the best way to release your fury was as fire so hot it was plasma. He didn't know  _how_  the fuck she could make plasma with her fucking mind but she could. Desmond settled for just venting it as heat that made the glyphs all over his body glow painfully bright and smoke. It kinda hurt, like he was burning them deeper into his skin than they already were.

When he was finally finished his room was sweltering and Desmond crouched down into a little ball, holding his knees. He wasn't as mad now. He wasn't calm but he wasn't mad either. He had every right be pissed as fuck too. But he wasn't so angry he needed to vent more heat in rage. He was like a smoldering coal and was just low level angry now. He stayed like that for a while until that anger died down too, enough for him to think rationally.

He remembered what Kaley had said. That he looked just like the person who was his  _actual_  dad. Did she say that to torment him that meant he'd never meet the guy or because he  _did_  know him? Either option was frustrating to think about. Slowly he stood up. Because he'd been so warm his joints didn't protest and his limbs didn't complain about the position he'd been holding for so long. He went to the bathroom and turned on the lights. Or tried to. The lights weren't working. "Demeter," he barked. "Where are the lights?"

"You— burned them out," she said, her voice staticky. "You burned out— all the lights in a hun—dred foot radius around you."

He sighed and leaned against the sink. The basin was warm but not hot from the amount of heat he'd made. "Yeah, okay. That's fair I guess. Sorry."

"It's— okay. I expected— such when you— arrived."

Desmond rubbed his face and just turned on some cold water. It came out warm a few seconds before gushed cold. Desmond splashed his face with some cold water and after drying it off left his room. He caught a lift somewhere else, not even sure where he was going. When the lift opened he sighed. "Fuck, I'm stupid." He was in the area of Demeter where Lucy's room was. It was far enough away from his room to not have been affected by his tantrum. He hated calling it a tantrum. It hadn't been a tantrum. He went to the door and knocked. He didn't even know if she was there. He waited a few seconds and was starting to second-guess himself.

The door opened. "Desmond?" Lucy asked, she was still dressed but was dressed down for comfort. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

"Uh… sorry? What time is it exactly?"

"It's ten at night. Is everything alright?"

"I— can I use your mirror?"

"What?"

"I burned out the lights in my sector cause of something… something I did. Can I use your mirror?"

"Sure?" she wasn't quite sure herself but did let him in.

"Thanks," he said and went in. Lucy showed him to the bathroom.

"You okay?" she asked him.

He stared at her. "I have no fucking idea," he said and grabbed his hair. "I just learned the guy I thought was my dad, not actually my dad?"

"What?" she asked.

"Yeah. So I'm kinda fucking  _pissed_ — shit, sorry, sorry," he took a deep breath because the lights above were flickering again. He didn't want this to ruin or control him. He could be above this. "I'm kinda mad I had to go through like sixteen years of needless suffering because my mom and Andrew are both easy as hell," he sighed.

"Desmond, I'm sure she had a good reason-

"Maybe but she didn't  _tell_  me, and she let him abuse me for sixteen years and Duncan for eight because he was mad about me."

Lucy reached out and touched his arm. "I'm sorry. I'm sure she didn't want that to happen or think it would. Why do you need to use my mirror?" she asked to lighten the mood a little.

"Kaley said I… look like him? My actual dad."

"That's a funny thing to say considering he's probably dead," she said with a frown.

"Yeah," Desmond said but even her saying it Desmond knew that wasn't the truth. He knew that Kaley wouldn't tell him that unless he was alive. He hoped it wasn't something creepy. He turned away from her and looked in the mirror over the sink. Lucy leaned into the bathroom and he could see her head poking through the doorway. "Can I have some privacy?"

"Just don't break my mirror," she said.

"I won't."

"And Desmond," she added.

"Yeah?"

"Kaley and I have talked a lot. Don't give me that look," she added. "She knew we were something and wanted to get to know me. She's a… well she's something but she doesn't just do things for no reason. She's not a petty rebeller. Everything she does has a purpose, even if it's just to make her feel better. Her cheating on Andrew with your dad was because she  _actually_  liked him and not because she wanted to get back at Andrew. So I know this sucks and totally screws up your worldview but… you weren't an accident. After what she'd been through a lady like Kaley doesn't just  _make_  mistakes like getting pregnant with some guy who isn't her husband's kid."

He was surprised to find that that actually made him feel better all things considered. Andrew always told him he'd been an accident because Kaley never wanted more kids. Hearing from the time you were five or so that you an accident and a mistake really fucked with you. Hearing Lucy tell him Kaley didn't just fuck up like that a second time was oddly comforting. "Thanks," he said.

"That's what friends are for," she said.

Desmond nodded and closed the door softly. He looked in the mirror. He just saw his face staring back at him. But now he was trying to find someone else's face in it too. He saw his mother's hazel eyes and dimples as he moved his face around. His hair was darker than hers but that didn't help at all. His nose was all wrong. Kaley was as big a white American mutt as you could get with a perfect little white lady nose. Desmond's was bigger and convex instead of concave like the other Miles all had. So that was something. His skin was darker than his mom's too. Not that you could tell because he was always so wrapped up and his skin was strangely pale right now all things considered. The longer he looked the less he saw.

Desmond sighed and hung his head. "I don't even know what I should be looking for," he muttered. Then he looked up and nearly jumped out of his skin. It was a Bleeding vision of Altair reflected back in the mirror at him. Back when he'd lived through Altair's life. His unsmiling face looked back at Desmond under the hood.

Desmond opened the door. "Hey, you figure it out?" Lucy asked him. She was sitting on her bed reading a book.

"No," Desmond said and shook his hands out a little. "I… just had a mini Bleeding episode. It kinda freaked me out."

That got her attention and she sat up. "Oh? What happened?"

"I haven't not seen my own reflection in a long time," he said, his hands were sort of shaking. He rubbed them together.

"Oh no. Who was it? Ezio or Altair?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, just curious," she said.

He sat on the side of the bed. "I… uhg," he shook himself a little. "Bleeding always freaks me the fuck out."

"It should," she said. "Your mind knows it's wrong." She leaned over to rub his knee. "You're okay though. Do you see him now?"

"No."

"Do you look like him?"

Desmond looked down at himself. He was still wearing his black clothes. Black long sleeves, black pants, black gloves. No white anywhere. "Yeah, at least what I can see I don't look like him."

"Well you look like Desmond to me," she said.

"Right," he rubbed his jaw. His face felt like his face. A thought came to him and his hand slowed. "Venus?"

"Yes, Desmond?" she said in Altair's voice because she was annoying like that.

"Come here." Venus appeared wearing Altair's face and body. He beckoned her and she stepped over to him. "Lucy, do me a favor."

"Sure," she said. She'd put her book down now.

"Do we look alike to you?" he asked her, motioning to himself and Venus.

"Hmm." She shrugged.

"What's that mean?"

"I mean you've both got some middle eastern blood in you. You're just handsome middle eastern guys-

"Lucy, my family doesn't have any," Desmond said. "Or not enough for it to matter like that. Venus, face that way," he pointed. "How about from this way?" he faced the same way so Lucy could see them from the profile. Lucy didn't say anything. He looked at her. "Well?"

"You have his nose," she said, staring at him. Then she lightly slapped her hand over her mouth. "Holy shit," she whispered around her hand. "Your mom slept with Altair-

"Don't say it like that!" Desmond bemoaned. "Do I really?" he demanded.

"Side by side like that, yeah, it's uncanny. Huh… you guys actually look really alike now that I'm aware of it. That's-

"Uncomfortable?"

"I was going to go with uncanny," she said. "Does he… know?"

Desmond felt his stomach bottom out. He rubbed his jaw. "I… don't think so." Then he remembered what had happened the last time he'd seen Altair and what Kaley had said. "Actually, I think he does now."

"Oh Desmond," she sighed. She put her hand on her cheek. "I'm sorry you have to deal with so much weirdness in your life."

"You and me both," Desmond grumbled. He folded his arms.

"Excuse me? What's going on?" Venus asked.

"Nothing your busy body self needs to worry about, Venus. You can leave."

"Well, whatever it is sure has made you so  _pleasant_  to be around."

"Get out," Desmond snapped. She made a face at him and vanished.

"Do they… not know?"

"Despite what you believe or they want me to think they aren't watching me  _all_  the time," Desmond said. "Christ… this is so dumb!" he yelled. He aggressively rubbed his face. "Jake is gonna hate and be scared of Kaley even  _more_  now if he ever finds out. Just what I need," he grumbled. He looked down at his lap, folding his arms again. What was he going to do? He was still kinda mad at Kaley for keeping this from him, taunting him with it, and for sleeping with someone who wasn't her husband thus making his life infinitely more difficult and terrible than it should have been. Not that he exactly  _blamed_  her because Andrew was an asshole but still. She hadn't even considered how her actions affected other people. Mainly: him! He'd been really pissed in the moment but since it had been almost an entire day and he'd burned off so much of that rage he didn't feel as hateful now.

He sighed, sagging a little. "You okay?" Lucy asked him. She'd taken back to reading her book again for how long Desmond had been there thinking.

"No. But I will be," Desmond rubbed his mouth. "Thanks for the help, sorry for disturbing you," he made to get up.

Lucy leaned forward and grabbed his wrist. "You can sleep here if you want," she said.

"I appreciate the offer. I'm not going to be sleeping anytime soon."

"Desmond-

"I'm too wired to sleep. I'll get some rest, just not right now."

She frowned a little. "Alright. Don't do something stupid." She released his wrist.

"I make no promises," he said. "Goodnight."

"Night," she said as he headed out. On the other side of the door, he leaned against the door and let out a deep sigh. That was how he knew he was fucked up. He hadn't taken Lucy up on her offer to sleep in her room. Sometimes it was all he could think about.

"Someone, tell me where Altair and Kaley are," he said, tipping his head back a bit.

"Kaley is in her room, sleeping," Demeter said. "Altair is with Cain."

"Cain? What's he doing with Cain?"

"Being surprisingly civil, for once," Morpheus said boredly. "They're in the human nursery."

"They aren't like… arguing or killing each other or anything?" Desmond asked.

"If they were I would have had someone eject them," Demeter said. "Violence is not allowed in the nursery, or bad or mean language."

"Heh. You're such a mom, Demeter," he said.

"I was designed to be the mother of a new world if need be, I should hope so," she said.

Desmond chuckled. "Alright. Make sure they stay there and behave will ya?"

"I doubt they'll be going anywhere soon. They appear to be having a very important discussion."

"Yeah? About what?" Desmond asked walking towards the lift.

"I am not sure. It is in a human language I am not familiar with."

"Probably cause they didn't want you nosy bitches eavesdropping on them," Mercury piped in.

"Mercury, language!" no less than three of the other AI chimed in.

"What? I'm an adult."

"Than act like it," Artemis scolded him. "And not the little whiny brat you pretend to be."

"Then act like it," Mercury repeated in a mocking mimicry of Artemis' voice.

"Ahg!" Artemis cried and then they both went out of the area. Desmond could feel the way they came and went. He got the feeling Artemis was reprimanding him.

"He going to be okay?" Desmond asked as he called the lift.

"Yes. He'll be fine. Artemis was a Drell. They and the Lesh'v'rin never got along well," Pluto said.

"Oh… wait. Isn't Cain-

"Yes," Pluto said as the lift arrived. "Let's keep them separate. Artemis has made it well known she doesn't want to know who she was. It will make her sad. Do not tell her what I told you."

"Okay, sure," Desmond said and got into the lift. "I thought the Adjatevs just took people from their own nation to sacrifice," he said once he'd dialed in where he wanted to go.

Venus scoffed. "Hardly. They took whoever they wanted who best benefitted them. Only Pluto is Adjatev," she said gravely.

"So… what? You're all from the nations the Adjatevs took special joy in destroying?" Desmond asked.

"Basically. They stole an important person from their culture and killed us for their own gains."

"Hmmm," Desmond said. "I'm sorry."

"It isn't your fault," Morpheus said.

"It's an empathy thing. You can't understand," he said. The lift stopped and let Desmond out. He didn't go right away. He wasn't quite sure  _what_  he was going to do or say. "I want you to give me privacy. If I need you I'll call you," he said.

"Of course," Demeter said.

"That includes you too Venus," he added.

"I have to obey you don't have to qualify," she said with a tone that sounded like she was rolling her eyes. It was weird hearing it as Altair's voice.

"And… stop that."

"What now?"

"No more being Altair."

"Oh you're just no fun."

"That's a command," Desmond said firmly.

"Fine," her voice was foreign to him. He wasn't sure who she was. Maybe this was even her real voice.

Desmond waited until he didn't feel them anymore and he was alone. He went into the nursery. The lights were turned down but not off. The children were all asleep at this hour. He looked around in Eagle Vision and saw flashes of blue around a corner. He went towards it but didn't go around it just yet. There was a bit brighter light coming from around the corner and he could hear Altair and Cain talking. He could hear them clearly but their words were lost on him. It was some language he didn't know. Some tongue that had either died or become so changed it might as well be a dead language. Shit, they could have been speaking literal old English and Desmond would have been useless.

He stood there just listening. He was surprised by their tones. It was very calm. Calmer than he'd ever heard either of them speak to each other. There was no condescending superiority from Cain either. It was just two men talking like old friends. Desmond didn't want to interrupt them but he'd get no rest until he confronted Altair. He was nervous. He rubbed his hands together nervously before stepping out around the corner.

Cain and Altair were sitting in chairs, leaned towards one another. The light was coming from behind them on the wall of a setting sun with a happy face on it stuck half buried in the wall painted like a cartoon forest. The sun gave off dusk light. The conversation stopped and they both looked up when Desmond made his presence known. Altair gulped.

"Oh, hello, Desmond. It's rather late, you should be sleeping," Cain said in his calm, measured, way he'd been talking to Altair.

"I was looking for Altair," Desmond said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Asshole's been avoiding me all week," Desmond said. Anything to lighten the mood because holy fuck it felt oppressive.

Cain chuckled and looked at Altair, giving him a disapproving smirk. "Good one there, brother." He turned back to Desmond a bit. "Did you need him or you just wanted to talk?"

"Both," Desmond said. "In private if that's alright? I don't trust you as far as I can throw you, Cain; that isn't very far."

Cain laughed a bit louder. "Yes, I suppose that's fair. Alright," he got up with a groan and stretched, his spine cracking. "I know you both love staying up too late to be healthy but  _some_  of us actually enjoy our beauty sleep."

"Shame there's not enough hours in the day for you," Altair said but didn't look at Cain even as he said it. He hadn't taken his eyes off Desmond the entire time.

"And to think just a moment ago we were getting along  _so_  well," Cain rolled his eyes. He nodded at Desmond and walked away.

Altair didn't move. He just stayed exactly as Desmond had found him, staring at him. Desmond stared back before looking away. He went over to the chair Cain had been sitting in and took a seat. Altair followed him with his eyes. Desmond sat back against the chair and looked him over. Altair didn't know Desmond knew so he wasn't going to say anything but he was obviously stressed about the entire situation. It was going to get worse before it got better.

After a few minutes, Desmond leaned forward, forearms on his thighs, hands dangling between his legs. "You okay?" he asked Altair.

"I've been better," Altair said stiffly.

"Me too, honestly." Then Desmond sighed deeply. "So…" he rubbed his hands together, not quite wringing them, just rubbing the palms together. "Kaley told me why Andrew was such a fucking dirtbag to me growing up." Altair said nothing. "I wasn't his, which pissed him off. Even though apparently he was a huge hypocrite."

"That was sort of his thing," Altair said and then had to clear his throat. Altair's face was pretty pale.

Desmond exhaled. "Yeah… well… look this is weird okay."

"You're telling me," Altair said, his voice cracked and he cleared his throat again. "Did she… tell you?" he ventured.

"She pointed me in the right direction," Desmond leaned heavier on one thigh to rub his arm. He looked at Altair and now he knew why he had that momentary Bleeding episode. His brain was going 'you idiot' and making him aware of what he was actually looking at. One of the handful of times Bleeding was actually useful.

"I didn't know," he blurted out. "I swear I didn't know."

"I believe you," he said. "You're too much a control freak to just accidentally get a married lady pregnant."

Altair rubbed part of his face. "So you'd believe," he sighed. "Kay's like a fucking natural disaster. Impossible to predict or control."

"I mean… she is a pyromancer-

"Don't remind me," Altair groaned, rubbing his hand across his eyes.

Desmond grinned a little. "I don't want this to change anything," Desmond said. "Even if it… is weird." Altair nodded but still had a hand over his eyes like couldn't deal with Kaley and she wasn't even on the same floor as them right now.

Altair pulled his hand down off his face with a sigh and reached over and grabbed Desmond's fingers which surprised him. "It won't," he said seriously. That was more than a little bit of a relief. Then Altair let him go and leaned back in the chair.

"What were you and Cain talking about?"

"How dumb I am," Altair sighed. "And said I fucking did it  _again_  with the self-fulfilling prophecy. Was  _so_  sure about how the future was going to go I just… made sure it happened," he smacked his thighs lightly. "Good job me," he said, self deprecatingly. He sighed again and rubbed his jaw. "I'm too old for this shit."

Desmond couldn't help himself. He really should because it was weird but he physically couldn't stop himself. "My mom didn't think so-

"You  _be quiet_ ," he growled and Desmond grinned at his weak glare.

"So, what now?"

"Now I wish I still drank, I could use one," Altair grumbled.

"I'm being serious," Desmond said.

"Well. She was holding this over us. Now she can't. So that's something," Altair said. "And goddamnit Desmond this makes shit so awkward for me, you realize this?" he demanded.

"Dude, I don't wanna hear it," Desmond said blandly.

Altair gave him a hard look. "Jake slept with you," he said.

"… Oh.  _Oh_. I am so sorry," Desmond said, meaning it. "You could just… not tell him."

"Yeah, but  _I'll_  know. UHG!" he threw his hands up a bit, dramatically. " _I can't believe I'm with my own son's sloppy seconds_ ," he muttered in Arabic.

"You don't have to think of it like that you gross asshole!" Desmond yelled.

"Desmond, keep your voice down," Demeter suddenly chimed in.

"I told you not to listen," Desmond said sharply.

"I wasn't. But when decibels get too loud in the nursery during sleeping hours I look in to make sure everyone is alright. And you were yelling in a room full of hundreds of sleeping four-year-olds.  _Shush_ ," she said sternly.

"Sorry," Desmond said, hunching a bit. He gave Altair a look. "Let's just not talk about that part huh?"

"Please," Altair sighed.

A silence fell over them. Not an awkward one, just a silence they'd shared countless time before the world went to hell and even after. It was the same comfortable quiet of Desmond falling asleep in motel rooms next to Altair and he'd move his fingers through Desmond's hair. Or the silence of sitting outside after a bit of training and they were both sweaty and tired from trying to beat the shit out of each other. Or when they flew and Altair drifted off to sleep against his shoulder. Or when the four of them would sit together in a diner way too early in the morning when even the waitress was still half asleep and they all just wanted a cup of coffee before Ezio opened his big fucking mouth. Or sitting together outside the little barn in Russia his first year and Altair helping Desmond learn to walk again. Or Altair not bothering to ask if Desmond ate on their journey across the top of Africa to Cordoba and they'd just stand and watch the rich teal waters of the Mediterranean.

Neither of them said anything for a long while. Then Desmond swallowed to clear his throat and he said, "I'm glad Andrew isn't actually my dad."

Altair lifted his head a little to look at him. "Me too," he said and reached over to put his hand over Desmond's. "I'm glad you're mine instead." Desmond smiled at him a little and Altair returned it and gave his hand a squeeze.

**Author's Note:**

> [Consider checking this out to help me out](http://shotgunsandstars.tumblr.com/post/95116530924/%22)


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